The Charles Bass Affair
by scarlett2u
Summary: Charles Bass is a brilliant businessman, a playboy billionaire…and a jewel thief? Insurance investigator Blair Waldorf is determined to get her man before he pulls off his most daring caper yet: stealing her heart. Inspired by The Thomas Crown Affair film.
1. Chapter 1

Charles Bass is a brilliant businessman, a playboy billionaire…and a jewel thief? Insurance investigator Blair Waldorf is determined to get her man before he pulls off his most daring caper yet: stealing her heart. Inspired by _The Thomas Crown Affair_ film.

* * *

Therapists weren't supposed to have favorite clients, but Dr. Isabelle Cerra was only human.

When she'd seen the name "Charles Bass" in the 3 o'clock slot on her patient schedule for the day, her lips had curved into a subtle smile. Now, sitting across from him, that smile had been subdued and she was all business.

"Do you still feel as though you are suffering from ennui, Mr. Bass?"

The gentleman in question shrugged.

Ah, he was going to make this difficult. A session with him was bit like playing a game of chess: one had to focus on the current move and also anticipate several moves ahead. While mentally stimulating, it could also border on the frustrating.

"You realize this is most unlikely from a man in your position?"

"In my position?" He did appear curious at that, and she was taking it as a minor victory.

"Yes, you're young and you're healthy." He was about thirty years of age, toned and fit but without the look of someone obsessed with those goals.

"Most would consider you physically attractive." He had a jawline that might've been sharpened on a whetstone, a strong chin, high cheekbones and a proud forehead. The most startling features, however, were his eyes – a mysterious color that was a kaleidoscope of shades from amber to bronze to mocha. They were set at an exotic slant in his face and accented by bold, dark brows that seemed to express as much as the eyes themselves.

Right now, the brows were raised in surprise. "Only most? You wound me, Dr. Cerra." His voice was deep and he knew exactly how to use it to charm and persuade.

"You're well dressed," she continued, undeterred.

He did smile a bit at that, as he was rather proud of his reputation as an international trendsetter in men's fashion. He never looked less than his best, often wearing styles and color that would appear clownish on another man.

"Intelligent, successful."

"Define 'success'."

She gestured out the window. "How much of Manhattan do you own, Charles?"

"Not enough," came the swift reply.

"A substantial chunk of it, if gossip is to be believed."

"Oh, come now, Dr. Cerra, please tell me you don't believe the fiction that passes for gossip?"

"What about the Wall Street Journal? The Forbes 500? Should I doubt those sources? They all classify you as a financial wizard who's greatly multiplied the empire his father left him."

He snorted. "No one would be more surprised by that than him."

"The front page of today's New York Times says you've just pulled off another successful merger. You don't feel he'd be proud of that? Proud of you?"

"I think the only thing Bart Bass was ever proud of was himself. He found the rest of the world…disappointing."

She frowned. "But how do you see yourself? Are you satisfied with your achievements?"

"Satisfaction is…an elusive concept."

"Complete satisfaction, yes, but there should be a certain degree of restlessness in one's life to encourage one to reach for more, to try new things. It's how I came into my career."

"And what did you do before?" It was something he had always wondered about her.

"I was a high school teacher. And I loved it, don't get me wrong. But I found I loved the students and talking with them about their lives was far more fulfilling than standardized tests and lesson plans and the like. I think the human psyche is fascinating."

"Do you?" The brows went up again.

"Don't you?" she countered.

"I find most people and situations all too predictable," he frowned.

"You feel…unchallenged?"

"I feel there's something missing."

"Maybe it's intimacy, a woman?" She dared to bring it up.

"Only one woman?" he chuckled. "Women aren't intimacy." He sounded confident of that. "They're…entertainment."

"I'm sure you've found a number of them entertaining. Have you ever been in love?"

He outright laughed at the idea. "That's for poets and songwriters and schoolchildren."

"Do you feel it's possible you could meet someone who is your equal, a partner? Someone you could trust who trusts you? Someone who makes you happy?"

He grew serious then. "If life has taught me anything, it's that happiness doesn't seem to be on the menu."

If it were any other patient, Dr. Cerra would encourage them to take steps to reclaim their power over their life, but none of them was the enigmatic playboy billionaire sitting in front of her. There was something heartbreakingly tragic about a lost man in his prime, who had the whole world at his feet and yet felt empty. No, control was not Charles Bass's problem; what he needed was someone or something to make him lose that control. And finding that, unfortunately, was a matter of timing and luck.

When her client had left and she was alone again, she picked up her newspaper from earlier in the day. The story below the fold detailed the latest merger acquisition of Bass Industries and its effect on the Bass empire. Isabelle flipped the paper over to see what could possibly top the business coup.

The lead story was a jewel heist, one of the biggest ever, from a special exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. A flawless diamond of unusual size called The Empress had vanished. The article went on to detail that New York police were investigating and the company who had insured the pendant was sending a recovery specialist to aid in the search. They were optimistic that the necklace could be recovered, or certainly very hopeful they could avoid a one hundred million dollar payout. The main stone in the necklace, The Empress, was said to be a lucky gem, and whoever had taken it would need luck indeed to avoid capture.

Possibly as much luck as Charles Bass needed to find what was missing in his charmed life.

To Be Continued in Chapter 2

* * *

Author's Note

Welcome to my new story, y'all! _The Thomas Crown Affair_ (the 1999 version with Pierce Brosnan and Rene Russo) is one of my all-time favorite films. Who can resist a good heist film combined with a love story? It's all about the chase. Will love win out? We shall see.

The chapters in this story will be shorter than my usual length, or, as Almaloney33 said, "fun size, yeah, baby!"

I hope this installment brought a smile to your face. As always, I love to hear from my readers, so don't be shy with the review button. I like knowing that people out there still love Chuck and Blair like I do.

Special thanks to Chrys1130, Almaloney33 and Shrk22 (sly wink).


	2. Chapter 2

_Last time in the Bassverse: Charles Bass pulled off a hugely successful business merger and possibly a legendary jewel theft, just in time for his 3 o'clock with his therapist._

Chapter 2

Detective Dan Humphrey strolled into his precinct, coffee in one hand and an opened newspaper he was attempting to read in the other. He grimaced slightly at the part of the article announcing the arrival of a recovery expert (whatever that was) coming to aid his investigation. Still, he had no doubt he'd have little difficulty working with the new fellow. The guy was probably just meant to be a watchdog, a liaison to keep the insurance company up to date on the investigation.

Humphrey wasn't a rookie. He had a solid record in clearing cases and was sure this one would be no different. He'd come a long way from his early days as a college journalism major. Back then, he'd wanted to be an investigative reporter. Degree in hand, he'd set off to change the world. But getting a job offer for a full-time writing gig proved even more difficult than getting a byline.

A random ride-along with the NYPD for a story had left him intrigued by the police profession. The gentrification of his neighborhood had left him with an increasing rent bill he couldn't pay.

Quite simply, he needed a job.

It was the right fit at the right time and he'd never looked back.

Dan liked the feeling he could make a difference, though he failed to see how this current case had much meaning in the grand scheme of things. What did he care if some fancy thief wanted some overpriced necklace that was sitting in a museum? He'd researched jewel theft cases and their outcomes were unpredictable: the jewels might never be recovered or they might turn up in a locker at a bus terminal in Miami. He'd be relieved to clear this case and focus on something else other than rich people problems.

He pulled up short as he walked into his office. Seated behind his desk was the 95-pound epitome of a problem rich person. She was stylishly dressed; her ensemble probably cost more than he earned in a month. There was intelligence and curiosity and maybe a little disdain in her wide doe eyes when she looked up at him from the stack of papers and photos spread out before her.

"Oh, good, you're here. I was wondering when you'd arrive."

"Excuse me, miss, I think you're in the wrong place."

"Mm, nope." Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. "I'm exactly where I need to be, Lieutenant."

"It's Detective. Detective Dan Humphrey. If you can tell me what you're looking for, Miss…?"

"I'm Blair Waldorf, and I'm looking for The Empress necklace. I'm here on behalf of the insurance company. To rescue your investigation."

He bristled at that. "My investigation is progressing nicely and not in need of any rescue, I do assure you."

She sighed. "How much experience do you have with high-profile jewel heists, Lieutenant? You're from Brooklyn, right?"

She looked him over from head to foot and he was immediately aware of every single scuff on his shoes and that he was more than a little overdue for a haircut.

"Are you psychic?" He said the first thing that came into his mind.

"Not really, but I do my homework and I make observations. That's the next best thing. Crimes have a culture and a personality. This one is sophisticated…and cunning. It's a very Upper East Side crime. I grew up there; I understand."

"Crime is crime," Dan snorted. "It's not about geography or cultural settings; it's about people."

"Well, you seem to be a student of human nature. What have gotten from these files so far?" She gestured at the spread of evidence on the desktop.

"I've only done a preliminary scan of the pictures taken in the museum the afternoon of the heist…," he began.

"So…no suspects then?"

She needn't sound so superior about it.

"What about him?" She pointed to a clear photo of a handsome, urbane man.

"That's Charles Bass."

"Yes, but what do you know about him?"

"Enough to know that it couldn't have been him. The guy's a billionaire. The day of the heist he completed a merger that made him even richer. What does he need with an expensive piece of jewelry?"

"There's more than money as a motivation here."

"He's not only rich, Miss Waldorf, he actually owns the company that makes the security system used by the museum. This theft is a bad reflection on his product."

"It's a hit, certainly, but one his empire can afford to take. I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't debut a newer, better security system in the next few months and make a killing in the stock market."

"You are quite the cynic, lady. Unless your interest in Mr. Bass is more of a personal nature." He gestured at her finger still tracing the outline of the gentleman's face in the photo.

She glared at him and he wondered if perhaps he'd gone too far with the jibe. "This isn't a dating profile, Humphrey. I'm evaluating a suspect. A suspect who's also been present at the scene of three other jewel thefts. Does that seem like a coincidence to you? I don't believe in coincidence."

He was taken aback for a moment. She really did do her homework.

"The motive is a mystery." It was stating the obvious, but it was true.

"Charles Bass is a mystery. But you know what? I'm going to solve it." She got up from his chair and moved toward the door.

"How exactly are you going to do that?" He sounded dubious.

"By using every weapon in my arsenal." She sounded quite confident.

He watched in wonder as sashayed down the hall, mesmerized by the bounce of her dark curls and the sway of her hips. Feminine wiles and uncanny intuition.

Charles Bass had no idea what was about to hit him.

Dan Humphrey didn't know if he should feel envy or pity for the gentleman in question.

To Be Continued in Chapter 3

* * *

Author's Note:

Well, we met Chuck and now we've met Blair. Whatever will happen next?

Thank you so much to my readers and reviewers. I treasure you all and hope to hear from you soon. If you sent me a review, I haven't forgotten; replies are coming soon.

Have any thoughts, comments or wishes for the story? Bring 'em on!


	3. Chapter 3

_Last time in the Bassverse: Insurance investigator Blair Waldorf was brought in on the case of the stolen Empress necklace. She set her sights on a new and unlikely suspect: billionaire Charles Bass. Warning: sparks ahead!_

The museum's ballroom was a crush of people. Camera flashes went off and conversation halted as the President/CEO began speaking.

"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed patrons, it is with great joy that I reveal the newest star of our Royal Jewels exhibit, a necklace once owned by Queen Marie Antoinette, a gift from the Bass Family Collection thanks to the generosity of Mr. Charles Bass."

A wave of applause went through the crowd as the gentleman approached the podium.

'Oh, he's good, he's very good,' Blair Waldorf thought as she was watched from the front of the crowd. From the Old Hollywood matinee idol looks to the flawless fit and cut of his black tuxedo, Bass looked every inch the successful patron of the arts.

His deep, dreamy voice mesmerized the audience as he made some brief comments to the crowd.

Blair was startled out of her reverie by his apology for the theft of The Empress and his vow to develop a newer, more secure theft deterrent system for the museum.

It was just as she had predicted.

There was another thunderous round of applause as Bass stepped down and came out to the join an elegant, blonde woman about twenty years his senior.

The blonde grasped his outstretched hands and beamed at him. "Oh, Charles, I am so very proud of you. The Marie Antoinette necklace is perfect for the exhibit."

"Thank you, Lily. Grandmama," he bowed to the older lady standing beside the blonde as she boasted how there was a bit of French royal blood in her veins.

The ladies turned to talk to someone on their left when Bass heard a feminine voice behind him.

"Very generous. Or maybe it was just gathering dust in your safe and you can use the tax write-off for the donation."

He turned around quickly to look at the speaker.

And was rendered speechless.

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

The eyes were the first to capture his attention. Deep and dark, they were enormous in a china doll face. Doe eyes: he'd heard the term before, but it seemed to have been designed especially for her. They revealed her intelligence and he was curious to see how much they would reveal of her emotions.

Red lips were curved into a perfect pout and chestnut curls were swept up to reveal a delicate, swan-like neck. She was a compelling study of lights and brights and darks. Indeed, it seemed fitting that she was here inside a museum tonight.

"We haven't met," he observed.

"No?" She raised eyebrows as dark and expressive as his own.

"I feel certain that even a man with amnesia would remember such beauty."

So, he was going to try to charm her…. The corners of her curved up into a smile.

He extended a hand. "I'm Chuck Bass."

"Blair Waldorf," she placed her hand in his and almost recoiled from the jolt of electricity that seemed to flow between them. Blair was not normally a fan of handshakes. She failed to see how clasping a new acquaintance's hand could actually further a friendship, but his hand was warm and gentle and it seemed to be a perfect fit for hers. She didn't want to let go.

Their hands remained intertwined just a shade longer than was proper.

Her eyes flickered to his face. He looked every bit as bemused as she did. With an effort, she disengaged her fingers from his to return to a more professional footing.

"Would you care for a drink?" He gestured to the bar at the edge of the room.

When they had made their way over, Chuck opened his mouth to ask her preferred beverage, only to be stunned when she ordered for both of them.

"Gin and tonic…and a scotch, no ice, for the gentleman."

"How did you know that?"

"I've been reading about you," she confided sweetly.

"Where?"

"In a file."

"Who do you work for?" He raised his glass to her.

"I'm in luxury goods." Their glasses clinked and she took a sip, as if to fortify herself.

"Sales? Collections?"

"Insurance, actually." She took a deeper drink this time.

"I see. Are you going to tell me how much you can save me if I combine my home, plane and fine art insurance? I can assure you I'm fully covered." He drained his glass.

"My specialty is recovering insured items, very valuable items. The necklace, The Empress…you don't think they'd simply cut a check for a hundred million dollars, do you?" There was a knowing look in those doe eyes.

He returned the stare.

"So you get these valuable items returned?"

"Yes, and the responsible party or parties apprehended."

"And who do you think might be responsible for this caper?"

She laughed then. "Why, you, of course, Mr. Bass." She finished the last of her drink.

"Of course?! Are you seriously suggesting I might be the culprit? I have no motive."

"Not a readily apparent one, no."

"What do you get out of this?"

"Five percent of the value of the necklace."

"That's…a substantial amount of money. You're a bounty hunter then?"

She shrugged and the black sequins on her evening gown glimmered in the light.

"Tell me, do you always get your man?" His eyes searched hers.

"What do you think, Mr. Bass?" She did not look away.

His voice dropped even lower. "Think you'll get me?"

"I'm looking forward to it," she purred, a coquettish gleam in her eye.

He was suddenly unsure in which context she meant those words.

She turned to leave the ballroom and he gave chase.

"Have dinner with me."

"What?!" She appeared genuinely surprised, and he took that as the rare and satisfying victory it was.

"Tomorrow night. I'll send my limo."

"You don't even know where I live," she pointed out.

"Not yet. I will by dinner tomorrow, though." His confidence was unshakable.

"I suppose I will see you then. Goodnight, Mr. Bass." She gave him a little wave.

"Goodnight, Miss Waldorf." He took her hand and placed a light kiss on the back of it.

They both tried to ignore the spark that again passed between them.

He watched until her form disappeared from sight, and then he got out his phone and called his PI. "I need a full dossier on Blair Waldorf on my desk first thing tomorrow."

It appeared there was no rest for the wicked.

To Be Continued in Chapter 4

* * *

Author's Note:

They just met and already have made plans for their first date. Naturally, there will be business, but surely there will be some pleasure?

What's in Blair's dossier? Will her file be thicker than Chuck's?

What will we learn about them and what will they learn about each other?

We'll find out in Chapter 4.

Looking forward to hearing from YOU! Reviews make me smile.


	4. Chapter 4

_Last time in the Bassverse: Blair Waldorf checked out her suspect, Charles Bass. He asked her to dinner with him…and then ordered a dossier on her._

"Thanks for compromising our investigation," Detective Dan Humphrey bit out the words as soon as Blair Waldorf crossed the threshold to his office the next day.

"I didn't compromise anything," Blair retorted. If he thought she'd be easily cowed by a man in a mood, he was sadly mistaken. "I just cut through all the smoke and mirrors and got to the truth."

"Which is?"

"The smug Basstard did it. He stole The Empress."

"And you know this for a certainty?"

"I do."

"Miss Waldorf, we do not go after a suspect with no warrant and no backup. We do not tell them they are a suspect. And we don't make dinner dates with them."

"Maybe you don't, but I'm not a member of the police force. I'm a private citizen. My methods are my own," she sighed. "Do you not want me going to dinner with Bass?"

"I only care about my investigation. I don't care about your dinner dates. Though I will remind you that you said this wasn't about dating someone you're attracted to."

Blair frowned. "I never said I was attracted to him. I can objectively state that he is attractive. Charming. Interesting. And regardless of those facts, I will still need to have dinner tomorrow night. Why not kill two birds with one stone?"

"And that stone happens to be a flawless diamond."

"In this case, yes."

"Then bon appetit, Blair."

She smiled. "I'm glad I have your approval, because I don't need your permission. I'm rather looking forward to that dinner."

"We had a warrant to search his brownstone this morning."

Blair raised one dark brow. Humphrey was moving faster than she'd anticipated. "And what did you find?"

"Him having breakfast with his lawyer. One Cyrus Rose. A family connection of some sort. He read over the warrant and found a loophole in less than five minutes. We didn't get a look at anything except Bass's front hallway, which seems to have a fair amount of marble nudes."

"Keep your panties on, Humphrey. I'll get into his house and I'll get that necklace."

He hoped she was right.

* * *

"You look amazing," Chuck Bass purred as Blair settled into the back seat of his limo. She was wearing black again, this time a cocktail dress with sheer cap sleeves, a rhinestone ornament at the waist and a frothy tulle skirt that ended mid-thigh. With her dark curls piled high, she looked more than regal; she was a goddess.

"As do you," she gestured appreciatively to his black Armani tux with its snowy white shirt and dark-as-night bow tie, all set off with the geometric print silk scarf that was his signature. "I see you found my home, hopefully without too much trouble."

He grinned at that. "Did you think I would need clues to find you? You're not the only one with files."

Color bloomed on her cheeks and she looked away briefly. "Speaking of destinations, where are we headed this evening?"

"I'm glad you asked. I thought we'd make a little stop before dinner." He pushed the button that put down the partition. "Arthur, the Met, please."

"Returning to the scene of the crime?" Her lips curled into a smile.

"Checking on my donation and the security. Since we established my innocence last night…."

"Oh, but we didn't actually establish proof of innocence; we established that you have no readily apparent motive."

"Why commit a crime with no obvious motive?"

"I was hoping you could tell me that."

The limo pulled up in the front of the classic building, and Chuck and Blair exited and made their way up the stone steps.

Chuck's hand was at the small of her back and she could feel the warmth of his fingers through her coat and dress. For the briefest of seconds, Blair wished this was a real first date and not just part of an investigation.

But it wasn't.

Back to the matter at hand…

"You're an intelligent man, Mr. Bass. A brilliant businessman. A knowledgeable collector of art and jewelry. Maybe you can help me discover the reason why someone would steal such iconic gem. It's not like it could be worn in public or bragged about at dinner parties."

"Maybe it was for a more personal, private reason…," Chuck speculated.

They checked Blair's coat and moved towards the jewel exhibit.

"I think that is the key to the whole investigation: the who and the why. This was an elegant crime…."

She whirled around, looking at all the sparkling jewels that seemed to both radiate and reflect light.

"Why choose The Empress?" she mused. "It's a lovely stone, sure, but not what I would I pick.

"No? What would you pick?" He was curious.

She studied the different pieces in the gallery, appearing to mull it over.

"This is beautiful," she gestured to Bass's newly donated Marie Antoinette necklace, "But maybe something a little smaller, a little more delicate."

"Well, the 18th century wasn't exactly known for its subtlety," Chuck smirked. "Come on, pick one."

"Why?" She was immediately suspicious. "Would you get it for me?"

"Everything is attainable." He sounded very jaded.

"Even this?" She pointed at the Erickson Beamon necklace, a sparkler that combined stylized blossoms and dew drops reminiscent of nature-loving Art Nouveau and the swirls and modern lines of Art Deco. What really set it off was the diamond filigree heart pendant in the center.

"Hmm, a good choice. Something so beautiful belongs on someone worthy of its beauty."

She ignored the comment and stayed focused. "So you'd get it for me? How would you get it?"

"I'd scour the Chelsea Flea Market until I found an acceptable substitute with zircons."

"Zircons?" She couldn't help it; the thought of Charles Bass out flea marketing for costume jewelry made her burst into laughter.

Was she mocking him? His eyes flew to her face.

And his heart stopped.

It felt like there was something in his stomach…fluttering.

It was her eyes, those damn eyes. It felt like they could actually see him, all of him.

He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He was going to have to be very careful.

And then he noticed she was shivering. Without a word, he unbuttoned his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, adjusting his scarf around the lapel and letting his fingers slide down her arms.

Goosebumps rose on her forearms, and not from the temperature.

He toyed with the fringed ends of the scarf. "Looks better on you."

She looked at her reflection in one of the glass cases. "It does, doesn't it? Maybe I need your fashion advice as well as your insights on The Empress?"

"Would you settle for my dinner reservation instead?"

"Where are we dining tonight, Bass?"

"My friends call me Chuck." He threw down the gauntlet.

She hesitated.

He waited.

"Chuck," she finally relented.

"Where would you like to go, Your Highness?" he bowed.

She shot him a sharp look. Had he been researching her?

"Daniel sounds lovely." She deliberately threw out the name of one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. "Of course, we don't have reservations."

"We don't need reservations; I'm Chuck Bass."

As if that explained everything, and maybe it did.

She rolled her eyes and surreptitiously drew a ring of keys out of his jacket pocket, depositing them on a nearby display, where one of Humphrey's men picked them up seconds later.

* * *

As predicted, the staff at Daniel was welcoming and more than accommodating of the Bass party, reservations or no. Before long, Chuck and Blair were ensconced at a cozy corner table perusing the menu.

"Can I get you something to drink while you make your selection?" The waiter was solicitous.

Blair opened her mouth to order, but Chuck beat her to the punch. "The lady would like some champagne, please. Dom Perignon 1995, if you have it."

"I'm impressed," she admitted when the waiter had left to fetch their drinks. "You have been studying me."

"It's a fascinating topic, and only fair, since you have a file on me."

"Why do I have a feeling that your file is bigger?"

"I'm very thorough, Your Highness."

She frowned. "Please don't call me that. Are you referring to - ?"

"Your fairy tale marriage to the Prince of Monaco or your time as queen at Constance Billard? Both, actually. You know, you arrived at Constance the year after I graduated St. Jude's. We just missed each other. Fate is cruel."

"I don't believe in fate. It's just an excuse for waiting for things to happen instead of making them happen yourself. You don't strike me as that type. You're a very self-made man."

"You don't believe everything I have is a result of who my father was?"

"No, you could've gotten your inheritance and settled into an idle life, but that's not what you did."

"Hmm," he was noncommittal before abruptly changing the subject. "So…do you still have the uniform?"

"From Constance?"

He nodded.

"I'm surprised that's not in my file. Along with a history of my lovers."

"Oh, it was. The estimate was three."

The conversation was becoming surreal.

She appeared unfazed. "Interesting. We don't have that information in your file. What exactly is your number?"

"It's, um, higher."

"Significantly, I'm sure. Why the interest in my old uniform?"

"I find the idea of you in a short skirt and knee socks to be…intriguing. If you still have the uniform, then I'd say that scenario is just loaded with possibilities. Perhaps for some one-on-one tutoring?"

"And who would be tutoring whom?"

"I imagine it would be more of a mutual study session, with both us benefitting from the educational opportunity."

She should have been offended. The deep tone of his voice, the unhurried manner in which he spoke, the frank appreciation in his eyes…instead, she felt seduced. This was not good. She shifted uncomfortably.

The waiter was back to take their orders.

"I'll have the bass." Blair looked Chuck straight in the eye as she said it. She might be uncomfortable with the direction things were going, but she wasn't afraid.

"I'll have the filet. Rare."

She smirked once the waiter returned to the kitchen. "You do like rare things."

"As evidenced by my present company." He raised his glass to her. "You know, I'm surprised things didn't work out with the high school boyfriend from the political family."

"If you are, then your files aren't thick enough. He's married to my beautiful, blonde best friend and making beautiful, blond babies while summering in the Hamptons."

"Was he your first lover?" The question was direct.

"It was the night of my Cotillion debut. I wanted everything to be perfect." Why had she just confided that? He was oddly easy to talk to.

"And was it?"

She hesitated. "It was pleasant."

"You were disappointed," he observed.

"Let's just say we both were, but things have worked out exactly as they were supposed to. We're all still close. What about your first time?"

"Italian au pair when I was twelve."

"That's pretty cliché for a wealthy man's son, isn't it?"

"At least I'm not claiming it was Dutch twins." He felt the need to defend himself.

"Of course not, Casanova beat you to that," she teased, referring to the legendary lover's memoirs. "I'm sure your twins came later."

He said nothing. She was so quick, so bright, he always had to be on his toes to keep up with her. It was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.

Time to change the subject. "So there was a boring boyfriend at Yale that seemed straight out of central casting and then you met the Prince and got your fairytale."

"It was a pretty short lived fairy tale. A little less than a year. People always focus on the balls and the clothes and the glamour, forgetting there's a dark side to those stories. I was never more alone in my life than I was in that palace."

It sounded like she'd been alone a great deal in her life, much like he had been.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before he changed the subject again. "You didn't want to come home and go into business with your mother? Your mother is Eleanor Waldorf of Waldorf Designs, right?"

"Fashion is my mother's world, not mine. I was at loose ends for a bit after my marriage ended and she made me an offer, but ultimately I turned it down. I wanted to forge my own path."

"Insurance investigation is rather off the beaten path for a poor little rich girl from the Upper East Side," he pointed out.

"It came about by accident, truth be told. I was at a house party where the hosts were robbed. I had my suspicions who had done it and I played Nancy Drew. It led to a job offer from the insurance company. I took it," she shrugged.

"I think you like the chase," he theorized.

"And you don't? Your whole life is spent chasing the next big thing."

He couldn't argue with that. "I have a proposition for you."

"I'm just dying to hear what that is."

He leaned in closer to her and whispered in her ear, "Would you like to share dessert with me? The madeleines with brown butter sauce here are not to be missed."

She nodded. "Would you like to share some information with me too?"

"Don't you know everything about me there is to know?"

"Oh, I've only just gotten started. But this case…. It intrigues me. Because it's obviously not the thief's first heist. I think maybe he started somewhere a little closer home."

"Closer to home?"

"Yes, say a wealthy industrialist was going to put his late wife's jewels up for auction and weeks before that auction was to take place, the jewels went missing from the safe in his penthouse. The industrialist and his teenage son were cleared, though the jewels have never turned up fifteen years later. There was speculation that it had to be an inside job, but why would a teenager steal something his family already owns?"

"Fun and games? Money for drugs or girls or gambling debts?"

"There was never a money trail to follow. No, I think the motive was a little more complicated than that."

"How so?"

"I think the son greatly resented the father attempting to sell something that had belonged to his late mother."

"Perhaps he wanted that last link with her or he thought the jewels rightfully belonged to his own future wife."

Blair marveled at how cool he was under pressure. He might have been discussing total strangers.

"Either way, he got away with it, and I think it set a precedent for him. He likes challenges that stimulate his mind. I think that's why he took The Empress. But it's a big gamble. The stakes are high. He should make a deal, save himself and me a lot of hassle." She looked at Chuck evenly.

She reached out and dipped one of the madeleines into the sweet sauce before taking a bite. A smidgen of the sauce clung to her upper lip and her tongue came out to lick it away at the exact time Chuck's finger came up to wipe at it. The second her velvety tongue made contact with his fingertip, the reaction was electrical, chemical.

It was a dangerous, volatile reaction. For a second, it was hard to breathe.

"Chuck," she moved closer and whispered seductively in his ear, "do you really think I'm going to sleep with a suspect in my case? This investigation could go on for a long time."

He never took his eyes off hers. "Oh, I hope so. I really do hope so."

Was he talking about sleeping with her or his hopes for a long investigation?

* * *

When they pulled up to her building, Chuck was right there to help her out of the limo.

"I'd let you in, but…."

"The gentlemen who've been following us all evening wouldn't approve?"

"That, and my Dorota."

"What's a Dorota?"

"There really isn't a word for her. She works for us. She raised me. She's indispensable."

"Then I'll say goodnight here. Good night, Blair."

"Good night, Chuck. Thank you for a very interesting evening." She leaned close to kiss his cheek, while secretly sliding his keys back into his pocket. A detective had returned them to her on her way to the powder room at the restaurant.

She felt almost giddy with relief that the operation had been successful and she was congratulating herself on a job well done when she somehow found Chuck's lips on hers.

It lasted mere seconds, but it rocked her world.

How could just a taste, just a brush of lips make her feel instantly dazed, dazzled, smitten?

"Sweet dreams, Blair."

And then he was gone.

That Basstard had just stolen a kiss…then disappeared like a thief in the night.

To Be Continued in Chapter 5

* * *

Author's Note:

Important Notice: In light of upcoming plot developments, I will be changing the rating of this story from T to M. You may want to follow the story or the author (hey, that's me!) to make sure you don't miss an update.

Family relationships in this story may differ from canon. Just bear with me, please.

Well, they've had their first meeting and first date, what do you think is next on the horizon?

Thank you to Chrys1130, Shrk22 and Almaloney33 for their read-throughs and encouragement.

Yes, Kananox, I am still alive! The chapters are getting longer, ChuckBlair8! I aim to please.

What did you think of this chapter, readers? Always glad to hear from you. Chapter 3 review replies coming as soon as I finish fighting with chapter 6 (ie. Hopefully soon).

Xoxo


	5. Chapter 5

_Last time in the Bassverse: Blair had dinner with Chuck and then he stole a goodnight kiss._

Chuck Bass tried to discreetly stifle a yawn, but nothing got past the eagle eye of Dr. Isabelle Cerra.

"Am I boring you, Charles? You usually do a better job of pretending that you're listening."

"I was up all night. Couldn't sleep."

"Hmm, insomnia isn't something that usually troubles you, is it?"

He shook his head.

"Then maybe it's something on your mind."

He still looked distracted.

"Or someone?"

His head jerked in her direction.

Oh, yes, now she had his attention.

"Has something unpredictable happened in your life at last? A worthy adversary has come on the scene?"

He had a mistake, he thought. Not in asking Blair to dinner; the old axiom of keeping your enemies close was an apt one. He should never have made those comments about her old school uniform. It was a gamble, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. Would she dismiss him as being heinous or would she rise to the bait? Neither. She just coolly said, "I'll have the bass, please." He had no idea what she was going to say or do next. "A worthy adversary"? Oh, Dr. Cerra didn't know the half of it.

He'd gone and complicated things further with the goodnight kiss. It rankled that she would dare assume he'd be content with a peck on the cheek like any other escort. He would give her something to remember, to think about.

But when his lips met hers, he lost all ability to reason. How could it be that he was only touching her lips—those sweet, sensual lips—but he felt it through his whole body?

Kissing was such an overrated thing. It just a stop on the way to a bigger, better destination. Or it usually was. He hadn't felt like that with her. He could've kissed her all night long.

Damn it, he should've kissed her all night long. Who cared if she had a Dorota or a dragon waiting upstairs? He would've taken on far worse to taste her mouth some more, to find out if that sharp tongue could be tempted into dancing with his.

But now he just kept replaying it in his mind, over and over. He hadn't slept or eaten. And it felt like something strange was in his stomach….

This had to stop. He couldn't afford to be distracted, by her of all people.

Dr. Cerra was saying something… "From what I know of you, Charles, you are not a man to run from a fight. I'm sure the next time you face off with this opponent, you will come out on top."

The next time?

Yes! How did the old saying go? "Familiarity breeds contempt"? He would immerse himself in Blair Waldorf until this temporary spell he was under wore off. He would kiss her again and find these crazy feelings were a fluke, an anomaly, and then he'd be back to normal.

He was still perfectly in control.

He stood up. He needed coffee. And maybe he'd send some peonies to the precinct for her.

"Charles, where are you going?"

"Sorry, much to do today." And he was out the door.

Isabelle sighed. Some days it didn't seem like much had changed at all from her time working with teenagers.

She picked up the daily paper, as yet unread on her desk. Not much excitement in the way of headlines, but on the society page…oh, there was something interesting! A photo of Charles Bass and a lovely brunette named—Isabelle squinted at the small type—Blair Waldorf engaged in a kiss on the sidewalk.

Well, this certainly explained some things.

Cherchez la femme!

* * *

Blair was on her second latte when she entered Humphrey's office.

"You look like ten miles of bad road," he observed sardonically.

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks ever so much, Detective. However did you solve that mystery? It just so happens, I'm jetlagged. Didn't sleep a wink last night." She took another gulp of her drink.

"Are you sure it wasn't from this?" He pulled out a number of 8x10 glossies that chronicled her dinner date with Chuck Bass the night before and tossed them on the desk in front of her. The one that landed on top was their goodnight kiss outside her apartment building. "Maybe you were awakened by true love's kiss?"

Blair snorted. "You watch too many Disney movies, Humphrey." But it certainly had been some kiss. Not what she'd been expecting. And it kept playing over and over again through her mind. Was it because he was such a ladies' man? By his own admission, he'd kissed many women. But kisses couldn't all feel like that, could they? She'd certainly never felt anything like that before. She realized she was absently tracing her lower lip with her fingertip while still looking at the picture. He made her forget that she was a former princess and a powerful woman in her own right. Instead, he made her feel like a sixteen-year-old virgin again.

This had to stop.

She tried to take another sip of latte only to find the cup was now empty. "I need another latte."

Dan gestured to the ancient coffeemaker on the counter. "This is all we've got."

"Then you're going to need to find me the nearest coffee shop so I can refill and then get started working."

"I thought you might want to go search your new boyfriend's house this morning."

"I beg your pardon, he is not my boyfriend. It was just dinner."

"And a kiss," he reminded her.

"A goodnight kiss." Humphrey really was the most exasperating man.

"So long as you can put your feelings aside and do your job."

"I have no feelings to put aside, and I can do your job as well as my own. Watch and learn, Humphrey."

One of the other detectives stuck his head in the door. "There's a delivery here for Miss Waldorf." He was holding a small crystal bowl filled with pink peonies.

"Gee, I wonder who that could be from?" It was Dan's turn to roll his eyes.

Blair inhaled the scent of the flowers before opening and reading the card.

"Thank you for a lovely evening. Dare I hope you'll be willing to accompany me to the Black and White Ball tonight? CB," Dan sneered.

Blair bristled defensively. "You know, I don't need you reading over my shoulder, or reading to me at all, for that matter."

He ignored her irritation. "Are you going?"

"What?! Of course not. This is an investigation, not an infatuation." The words came out automatically, but already Blair was going over wardrobe choices in her head.

"We'll see. Now let's get some more caffeine in you."

* * *

A half hour later, they pulled up in front of Bass's brownstone.

Dan went in with his team, while Blair hung back to text a quick thanks for the flowers and to reluctantly decline his invitation to the ball. She frowned as she typed the message; she so wanted to go. Her dinner with Chuck had been interesting, intriguing. Plus, Blair loved a good ball. She didn't have a choice, though. For the good of the investigation and her professional reputation, she had to stay away.

Walking into the brownstone did nothing to ease her mind. It felt like she was invading his home and his privacy. Even though she hadn't known him long, it was adequate time to recognize that these things were important to him. Yes, she had swiped his keys and had the detectives duplicate them, but somehow standing in his marble foyer made it all feel too real.

Humphrey had not exaggerated; the statuary was striking. She was especially drawn to the plaster cast of Canova's _Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss_. The original marble was in the Louvre; another cast was in the Met. The piece was meant to depict a moment from the Greek myths where Psyche is tasked with retrieving a flask from the underworld for Cupid's mother, Venus. Although forbidden to open the flask, Psyche's curiosity had overwhelmed her and the fumes that arose from the contents made her lose consciousness. Cupid finds his love and revives her with a kiss.

The statue was perfect in every way, from the majestic spread of Cupid's wings to the folds of the draperies beneath them to the gracefulness of Psyche's arms reaching up to lace in Cupid's hair and pull his face closer to hers. The look on their faces clearly showed that, to them, there was no one or nothing else in the world. It was a visual depiction of the purity, passion and perfection of love.

If one believed in that sort of thing.

Blair Waldorf was here to find a stolen necklace.

While the team worked on cracking the safe, Blair wandered through the house. It was surprisingly understated for the home of a billionaire, though his closet was impressive, in space, selection and organization. She took a moment to breathe in his scent. Was that cologne or his natural musk? Either way, it was intoxicating.

But this wasn't helping find the necklace.

She moved on. There were pieces of fine art everywhere, especially in the well-stocked library. A small Monet, obviously from his Giverny period, hung on the wall across from a massive mahogany desk. Waterlilies. Pond water. It seemed an oddly serene choice for someone as dynamic as Chuck Bass.

Blair moved over to the painting, taking it off the wall and inspecting it carefully. All appeared as it should. She hung it back on the wall.

Then she moved to Chuck's desk and sat down in his chair. There was something here, she was sure, if she could just figure out what it was. She looked under the desk pad, through the drawers and fumbled underneath the edge.

And then there it was: a small button built into the wood.

She didn't hesitate, immediately pressing the button.

For a second, nothing happened, and Blair worried that it might have been a silent panic button meant to call the police or security company. But she was here with the police; there was nothing to worry about.

Then there was a slight hum and the wall panel that held the Monet slid to the right, revealing another piece of art under it.

At that moment, the team came into the study to search…just in time to look up and see the newly revealed art.

The room suddenly became very quiet, with the exception of a couple of gasps. The color drained from Blair's face as she gaped at the artwork on the wall.

It was a drawing in charcoal pencil.

A nude.

A woman lying upon draped fabric on a sofa, leaning back in a languorous pose.

Her eyes were dark and deep and seemed to hint that she shared a secret with the artist. This effect was further enhanced by the slight curve of the full, sensuous lips.

Her hands were entangled in the dark waves of hair that cascaded over her shoulders.

The draped fabric that pooled under her was strategically placed to cover one breast and her lower sex.

The other breast was unashamedly on display and only called attention to the item that had pride of place in her cleavage: a magnificent, pear-shaped diamond pendant.

The drawing was obviously inspired by the scene in the film Titanic where Rose asks Jack to draw her "like one of [his] French girls" wearing only _The Heart of the Ocean_ necklace.

It was equally obvious that the necklace in the drawing was _The Empress_ and the woman wearing it was meant to be her.

She didn't need to look down to the bold "CB" penned in the corner to know who the artist was.

Dan was the first to recover. He went over, took the drawing off the wall and turned it over. There, taped to back, was a velvet jewelry envelope.

"Open it," Blair voice was quiet but firm.

He unsnapped the top flap, then the side. Small, shiny, opalescent stones fell and scattered on the Oriental rug.

Blair picked one up. "Sea glass. He's quite the comedian."

"And quite the artist," Dan couldn't help but chime in and there were a few nervous chuckles that went through the group.

With that, everything that was frozen inside Blair shattered and the heat of fury rose in her chest as the color rose in her cheeks.

Chuck Bass was going to pay for what he had just done.

* * *

It was several hours later when Blair entered the hotel ballroom where the Black and White Ball was being held.

She was a woman on a mission: find Chuck Bass.

She ignored the soft jazz playing the background.

The stylish fashions worn by the attendees? She wasn't looking at those.

The delicious aromas coming from the buffet of hors d'oeuvres and desserts? She could smell only one thing: Chuck Bass's blood.

Then she spotted her quarry.

He was dancing and chatting with a young, elfin-faced blonde.

Blair marched up behind his dancing partner and tapped her on the shoulder. "I'm cutting in." Her tone strongly discouraged any argument.

The blonde was confused and looked to Bass for confirmation. He reassured her and she moved away, but not before glaring at Blair, who smiled sweetly back.

He was handsome as sin in the requisite colors of the evening. It made Blair even angrier.

"I see your calendar cleared this evening," he observed.

"Please, we both know I wasn't busy tonight."

He ignored that. "You look…breathtaking." The midnight-colored gown she was wearing was sheer in all the right places. "I also admire your accessories." She was wearing his signature scarf from the evening before. "It's a Black and White ball, you know" he reminded her, gesturing to the bright patches of color in the scarf.

"Sometimes you need to bend the rules a little."

"Like when you searched my house from top to bottom today?"

"I wasn't breaking any rules. I was there for the necklace. If I'd found it, I would've returned it and collected my fee."

"But you didn't find it, did you? What if you had? Would I be sitting in handcuffs at the precinct right now?"

"I work for the insurance company. The necklace is my job. If I happen to get the perpetrator, so much the better. If not…," she shrugged. "Besides, I have a feeling your lawyer has told you that our unorthodox search today wouldn't hold up in a court of law."

"Speaking of insurance companies, I need to call mine. A priceless work of art has come up missing after your 'unorthodox' search today." He looked at her meaningfully. "If you wanted the drawing, you had only to ask."

The music switched tempo and he whirled Blair around.

She was glaring when they came face to face again. "I can't believe you would humiliate me like that!"

"Do you not like the artist's work? I mean, it's not museum-worthy, but I was pleased with how it turned out. Were you not?"

He whirled her around again, with only the tips of their fingers touching.

"I was with Detective Humphrey and his whole team when the picture was revealed," she hissed.

"Well, that picture wasn't meant for public viewing, hence the secret panel. Still, what did you did think of the form? I was working without a model, you know. If you'd like to remedy that…."

Again, the musicians switched things up, this time making it a sultry Latin rhythm with drums.

She was facing away from him, looking coquettishly over her shoulder, when he grasped both ends of the scarf in his hands and pulled her flush to him.

Suddenly, she was quite breathless, and not from anger.

He pushed a lock of her hair away from her ear before settling his hands around her waist. The heat of his touch felt like it was burning her skin through the sheer gown.

"It wasn't my intent to embarrass you," he whispered in her ear, "But you have no reason to be; you're a goddess."

She shifted in his arms until she was facing him. The look in his eyes found an answer in hers…

Then they were moving together, his hands ghosting over her arms, her waist, her hips, down her thighs…

Her hands wrapped around his shoulders, tangled in his hair, and she held on as if she was never letting go.

They transitioned seamlessly into a tango that ended with a theatrical dip.

Suspended in his arms, she felt like Psyche revived, like she could stay here forever.

"Are you sure you want to dance?"

She did not answer in words; she simply pulled his head down to hers and angled her mouth to his.

And then the whole place was on fire.

Their mouths were exploring each other; tongues teasing, tasting, dancing.

When they finally came up for some necessary air…

When they stood upright again after the dip…

When his arm curled around her waist and he said, "Let's go"…

They were both more than ready.

To Be Continued in Chapter 6

* * *

Author's Note:

Happy Memorial Day to my US readers and Spring Bank Holiday to those in the UK.

Note: this chapter marks the change of rating from T to M, even though nothing more naughty than some dirty dancing and French kissing takes place in this one.

I can't wait to show you all Chapter 6. It challenged me and I hope I've done it justice.

I can't say enough thanks to my faithful readers and loyal reviewers. You are who I write for, and your feedback makes me happy.

Xoxo


	6. Chapter 6

_Last time in the Bassverse: Chuck and Blair both dealt with a sleepless night following their first kiss. Blair and the police team searched Chuck's brownstone, where Blair was surprised to find a hidden drawing of a woman wearing_ The Empress _and nothing else. She was even more startled that the woman depicted in the drawing was herself! Embarrassed in front of her colleagues, Blair vowed to find Chuck and make him pay. She found him at the Black and White Ball and things took an unexpected turn for the steamy on the dance floor…._

They had their coats and were almost to the front doors of the hotel when it hit Chuck.

"Do we have company tonight?"

"Company?" Blair was perplexed.

"Your little entourage from the precinct that followed us around the other night."

"Oh! No, no one knows I'm here. I didn't say anything to anyone before I left."

"No?" He smiled then. "You were that intent on taking me down?"

She flushed. "You deserve to be punished." It was meant as a threat but came out as more of an enticement.

"I thought you were supposed to discourage me from bad behavior?"

"Depends on the behavior," she admitted.

Ugh, she was killing him. "Well, just in case, I've called for Arthur. When he pulls up, I say we waste no time getting in the car." He had no desire for this evening to end up in the society pages again.

She nodded and then gave him a secret smile. "We're on the run tonight. Got it."

* * *

A few minutes later, they were safely ensconced in back seat of Chuck's limo.

When Arthur had pulled up to the curb, Chuck had grasped Blair's hand and together they had rushed out into the waiting car. Now, sinking back into the rich leather seat, they were both a little breathless…and still holding hands.

They seemed to notice at the same time. Chuck pulled their entwined hands to his lips and kissed the back of hers.

She slid across the seat until her face was mere inches from his, until they were practically breathing the same air. The dark interior was illuminated only by moonlight and the city lights shining through the moon roof, but she could see the heat in the amber light of his eyes and it pulled her in closer…

Closer…

Until her lips touched his and the spark between them blazed bright.

Here, alone in the dark, it felt like they were the only people in the world and they could explore this magic at their leisure.

His lips moved against hers, tasting her full lower lip and drawing it gently into his mouth, then tracing it with his tongue…

She let out a little sound that was something like a purr and deepened the kiss, her tongue curling around his.

And then…she nipped his lip with the lightest graze of her teeth before soothing it with a sweep of that saucy little tongue.

He kissed his way across her smooth cheek before pausing at the shell of her ear and sampling the delicate skin of her neck.

She made those little sounds again and undulated in his arms. Suddenly, she was on his lap; one of his hands tracing a shapely calf clad in a silk stocking, the other wrapped around her lower back.

He couldn't get enough.

And neither could she.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

He was never going to stop kissing her. She was never going to let him.

He needed this, maybe more than air.

He was back to the silky column of her neck and he'd just found the adorable little divot where her neck met her shoulder. It seemed to be made for his tongue—and, well, who was he to argue?

Eventually, he left his newly discovered sweet spot and planted a row of kisses on the top of her shoulder. By the time he got to the thin spaghetti strap of her gown, his hands were shaking. With trembling fingers, he eased the straps down her upper arms.

For a second, Blair tensed in his arms, then she let go of his shoulders and brought her unsteady hands around to unknot his bow tie and toss it aside. She made short work of the buttons on his jacket and slid it off his shoulders.

Then they were falling back, into the seat and into each other.

There was a whisper-soft swish as Chuck found the hidden zipper on the back of her dress and eased it down. He slowly pulled the bodice of the dress down until the sheer fabric collected at her waist, revealing two pert, porcelain breasts tipped with delicate rose aureoles.

He stopped and stared, trying to drink in her flushed skin, tousled curls and those perfect, swollen lips.

Suddenly, his goddess narrowed her eyes. "Chuck Bass, if you're comparing me to that drawing you made…."

"I'm thinking I was an arrogant fool to think I could capture such beauty."

The swollen lips curved into a smile. "You might have given me more cleavage," she pointed out.

"Everyone's a critic," he sighed. "I think they are the perfect size and shape. The better to caress you, my dear." His fingers curved around one breast and gently stroked the nipple with his thumb. He lowered his head and took the other into his mouth, laving it slowly at first and then drawing the tip in completely.

And the treacherous things tightened and pebbled under his ministrations as if begging for more.

She was so responsive to him, a dream come true.

His hands slid down her body and slipped off her strappy sandals, then traced patterns on her stockings as they moved up her calves, behind her knees, up to the silken skin on her inner thighs.

It was a revelation.

Her own hands weren't still, fingers working feverishly to release the buttons on his shirt, to unbuckle his belt….

The sound of her lowering his zipper was possibly the sexiest sound he'd ever heard. His breath hitched in his throat and he drew back with a gasp, looking down at the wide eyes, the parted lips, the expression of desire he knew mirrored his own.

His mouth followed his hands to worship her thighs, to nibble at the unbelievably soft skin above the band on her thigh-high stockings.

A shock went through her.

The higher he went, the more little quivers went through her body, the more little purrs she made.

He wanted more…more…

Finally, his fingers reached the sheer lace edge of her red La Perlas. No understated black for her. He smiled and slid his fingers beneath the fabric, gliding over her most intimate of places before delving into the magical folds of her core.

She was wet, so wet. There was no doubt of it: she wanted him as much as he wanted her…if that were even possible.

He withdrew his fingers and brought them to his face, glorying in the sweet, spicy scent of her. Then, without a word, with his eyes locked on hers, he licked her essence from the tips of his fingers.

Her eyes squeezed closed and she let out another, louder cry.

The sound went straight through him, all the way to his already hardened cock.

She was going to scream with pleasure. He would see to it. His hands returned to her hips, before sliding around that delicious derriere, lifting her up with one hand while the other slid the scrap of lace down her legs.

Then he was free to explore her at will…slowly, then with greater speed, his fingers teasing her, testing her…until he allowed himself the luxury of uncovering the sensitive nubbin at her center, gently stroking it until she came apart in his arms.

The sounds she made, the way her body tightened around his, the feel of her nails digging into his back and marking him as her own...

And then she relaxed her grip, caressing his shoulders, winding her fingers through the hair on his chest, going lower…lower…until she reached in and drew his hardness out of his silk boxers. It was like silk over steel and the feel of her hands caressing it made them both moan.

You could've heard a pin drop a moment later when she dropped to her knees and her lips followed suit, licking the tip tentatively at first and then worshipping him with her mouth.

He couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He only knew that if he wasn't inside her soon, he was going to die—whether from the sheer pleasure she was giving him or the impending embarrassment of losing control like a schoolboy.

He cradled her face in his hands and she opened her eyes and looked up at him, not stopping. It was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen and almost his undoing.

This had to stop.

He took one of her hands and raised it to his lips for a kiss. "Come kiss me."

His whispered invitation sent another thrill through her and she could not resist.

He took both hands in his and gently pulled her back up and into his arms.

"Please, please…," she whispered the words against his lips and he was more than happy to grant the lady's request.

After securing a condom from his wallet, he went to put it on, only to have her pluck it from his hands and do the honors herself.

They reached for each other at the same time, his hands ghosting down the soft length of her arms while her hands grabbed the collar of his open shirt and pulled him down on top of her. Her thighs spread wider and her legs wrapped around him in a welcoming embrace.

Heaven.

He was in heaven, because now he was inside her. She was warm and tight and the appreciative little sounds that were coming out of her mouth, paired with the way her hips were rising to meet him, were addictive.

He devoted himself to pleasing her, nibbling at her neck and breasts while settling into a rhythm that left them both breathless.

She couldn't breathe, couldn't think—and she didn't want to. Nothing had ever felt like this and she didn't want it to stop—even though she thought she might die from it.

Dancing. It felt like a very erotic dance. A well-matched pair moving in sync, exploring; each giving and drawing pleasure from the other.

How did he do it? How did he know when she wanted faster, harder, and when she wanted slower, more tender. Every touch, every thrust, every kiss was perfect.

The sometimes sweet and sometimes naughty little things he whispered in her ear…had he just called her 'baby'?

She was feverish, on fire…the heat was about to consume her when a flash of light and heat went through her whole body, electrifying her every nerve. It felt like she was flying, flying into the sun….

And Chuck was right there with her, their cries and ragged breaths mingling together as they collapsed into each other.

They slowly opened their eyes, only to discover twin looks of awe and desire.

"Do…that…again." The words were meant to sound authoritative, but they came out as a breathy sigh instead.

"With pleasure," he responded. "Just as soon as we get to my place. You didn't think we were done, did you?"

Blair didn't answer. She just kissed him and began rearranging her clothes.

* * *

The black and white tiles on the marble floor were cool to the touch, but neither Chuck nor Blair noticed, though their naked bodies were entangled on said floor with their clothing spread out around them.

They had barely made it into his brownstone before they began kissing and shedding garments again.

Lying there, Blair looked up to the see the plaster cast of Cupid and Pysche locked in an embrace that mirrored her own with Chuck. One of his arms was wrapped around her breasts; hers were entangled in his hair. The rest of the world was forgotten. In the dimly lit foyer, there was only Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck.

By round three they had managed to make it to the top of the stairs, naked as the day they were born, their hunger no less abated. Their bodies were draped over the marble steps as though they were on the finest of silk sheets, with Blair's thighs spread wide and Chuck nestled between them worshipping her with his oh so talented tongue.

The steps were hard and cold. It should've been uncomfortable, but there was nowhere Chuck would rather be.

When they finally made it up the stairs, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to his bed.

Slow. This time it was slow, like he was studying her, memorizing every sight and sound. So engrossed was Chuck in his study of Blair that when her eyes opened and met his, he froze. But her eyes stayed locked on his and her lips curved into a little smile.

He did not realize his own lips were doing the same.

* * *

Blair awoke with a start, at first unsure where she was and what had happened.

She could see the first streaks of dawn coming through the windows.

She was naked, except for some silky sheets with a ridiculously high thread count and a sexy scent, almost like a natural musk.

She stretched a little. She felt sore…and sated. She stretched a little more and then she understood why she felt so incredible and the bed smelled so good: she was not alone.

She was next to a still sleeping Chuck Bass.

His face was more relaxed in slumber and she took a moment to appreciate the sculpted jawline, the high cheekbones, the sensual lips and bold eyebrows. Had she told Humphrey he was attractive? That didn't even begin to describe it. Thank goodness those powerful eyes were closed, because this way she could do what needed to do: get out of there.

What had she been thinking? She'd never before slept with a suspect. She had lost all professional discretion. And to Chuck Bass, of all people! A billionaire playboy. A man she knew was a thief. A man who had reduced her to screaming and begging for more. She had to put a stop to this at once.

Slowly, carefully, she inched way across the bed and out of his arms. She sat up and squinted in the low light. Where were her clothes? Then she remembered losing them somewhere in the foyer last night. Now she was trapped here, between the devil (she looked at Chuck) and the big, bad city (she looked out the window).

She was trying to figure out a solution when her bedmate stirred and reached for her arm. "Blair?" Half asleep, his voice sounded even sexier than usual—and how was that even possible? "Come back to bed."

It was an irresistible invitation and the last, sane coherent thought she had before melting into his arms again and letting his lips kiss her inhibitions away.

* * *

After a playful round in the shower the next morning, they breakfasted together on the rooftop of the brownstone.

He marveled that after a night of so little sleep she was still heartstoppingly beautiful. In fact, sitting there in his purple paisley silk robe, hair streaming over shoulders, she was pretty much perfect.

"You're amazing."

Before she could respond, a server came in with their breakfasts and set the plates in front of them.

Blair looked over at his full English breakfast and then at her own plate.

"You must be losing your touch, Bass."

He stopped chewing his first bite and raised an eyebrow. "How so? I mean, that's not what you said last night," he smirked.

"If you did have thorough files on me, you'd know that I always have fruit and a latte for breakfast."

"That's what you have, yes, but it's not what you want."

"Oh?" It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "You think I'd rather have pain au chocolat and vanilla peppermint tea?" She lifted her teacup and let the aroma tease her nostrils. "From Alice's Tea Cup?"

"But of course. I'm sure you'll enjoy the pastry as well. I hired a classically trained patisserie chef from Paris."

"You were all prepared, I see." She frowned. "I hate being a foregone conclusion."

"We were inevitable, Waldorf. With you, only a fool would consider not being properly prepared."

She frowned again. "I hope you are properly prepared, Bass, because this changes nothing. I won't stop until I get that necklace."

"I'd be very disappointed if you did," he confessed.

"Let the games begin." She raised her teacup in a toast before turning her attention to the pain au chocolat.

* * *

An hour later, Blair came down the marble steps looking prim and polished in a navy sailor dress with white trim, her conservative heels clicking on each tile.

"That's not what you were wearing last night," he pointed out.

"I called Dorota and had her messenger this over. I called for a car after that. I need to get to work. I also need my La Perlas, if you don't mind."

He gave her a guileless look.

"Don't play innocent. I saw you pocket my panties in the limo. In this case, you were literally caught red-handed."

"Yet you said nothing at the time."

"I was otherwise engaged."

"Damn right you were. You know, it's only fair; you have two articles in your possession that belong to me."

"Your scarf is upstairs on the bed. As for the drawing…I'm keeping that. I don't want it being on public view."

"So public you had to steal the key to my house and find it behind a hidden panel? It just so happens I did want you to have the drawing." He moved closer to her and ran a hand down her arm. "Did you ever ask yourself why someone who owns one of the premier security companies in the world didn't have the house alarmed the morning after you stole his keys?"

Her carefully schooled expression didn't change.

"Of course, the security cameras were running…."

"Really? And what did you learn from that?"

"That I like the way you look in my bedroom, but not as much as the way you look in my bed," he cupped her cheek and stared right into her eyes.

Color rose on her cheeks as she looked away.

He tried to kiss her, but she sidestepped him and moved closer to the door.

"The car should be here now," she observed.

"You fascinate me." It was a statement of fact. "That cool exterior, but, oh, the fire below," he drawled out the words as his gaze surveyed her from head to toe.

"Goodbye, Mr. Bass." She turned the door handle.

"Until we meet again, Blair."

It could not be soon enough for him.

To Be Continued in Chapter 7

* * *

Author's Note:

I'm so excited to share this latest installment with you. This chapter challenged me, and I hope I did justice to their first time in the Bassverse. This story has gotten a quieter response than my others, but I honestly have had such fun writing Chair meeting as adults in a different universe. And we're just getting started!

So how about you? What did you think of Chair's wild night? What do you think will happen next? I'd love to hear from you.

Thank you so much to my dedicated reviewers. I appreciate you more than I can say. You make me smile and make me think.

 _Define Kiss_ readers, I am currently at work on a birthday ficlet for Shrk22 that is set in the Kissverse. Hopefully, that will be written and posted next week.

Xoxo


	7. Chapter 7

_Last time in the Bassverse: Chuck and Blair spent a magical night and had breakfast together. Then duty called and reality was waiting…_

Blair Waldorf strolled into the precinct office later that morning, eager to exercise some control over her investigation, since she didn't seem to be able to over her racing heart and the thoughts that kept returning to her night with Chuck.

She needed to solve this case.

As she moved down the corridor, she was vaguely aware of appraising looks, of voices suddenly ceasing, of whispers that started and then followed her….

"Good morning, Humphrey," her voice was cheerful and she was smiling.

He put down his coffee and his lips twisted into a wry smile. "I daresay it was for Chuck Bass. Did you enjoy your little sleepover?"

"Excuse me?" Blair was taken aback by his knowing look and sardonic tone.

Dan got up, taking with him a manila envelope that he opened as he made his way over to the desk she was using during the investigation. He unceremoniously dumped the 8x10 glossies inside right in front of her. The photo on top was a zoomed-in shot of Blair and Bass locked in an embrace on the dance floor, faces mere inches apart.

The photo beneath it caught them mid-kiss, the heat between them undeniable.

"When I saw you yesterday afternoon, you were fuming over that nude drawing we found at his place. You stormed out, presumably to confront him. You sure showed him, huh?"

"I was not aware that I was under surveillance last night." She appeared unconcerned by the photos and wasn't backing down.

"You weren't; he was…but I guess the point is kind of moot since you weren't out of each other's company all night."

"So he likes me. That's not a crime."

Humphrey laughed. It was a little more than like, from what he could see. "Is he or is he not the number one suspect in our case?"

"He is," she admitted. "And this," she gestured to the photos, "changes nothing. I told him that myself this morning."

"This morning? You're going to totally jeopardize this investigation!"

They were interrupted by the ringing of her phone. She glanced at the display screen and then quickly hit "ignore."

"That was him, wasn't it?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business. If it was him, it makes no difference," she insisted. "I will get that necklace back."

Dan sighed and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Look, Blair, I haven't known you long, but I've read your file and getting involved with a suspect has never been part of your MO before."

"Of course not," she sniffed.

"Which makes me wonder if you are out of your depth here with Bass. Yes, he's handsome, he's charming, he's rich -."

She started to interrupt.

He held up a hand. "I know, I know, you were the Princess of Morocco –"

"Monaco," she corrected automatically.

The phone rang again. She pressed "ignore" again.

"Look, you could have been one of the Penguins of Madagascar for all I care…I'm just saying the guy has a lot—and I mean A LOT—of experience with women. I just hope you know what you're doing."

"I know exactly what I'm doing," she said evenly.

"Delivery for Ms. Waldorf!" A delivery man came with a bouquet of peonies, followed by a second and a third and….

"Five bouquets?" Dan raised his eyebrows when the delivery men finally left. "Is there some significance to that number?"

Blair shrugged and refused to look at him, though she knew exactly what Chuck had been thinking.

In the limo…

In the foyer…

On the stairs…

In his bed…

In the shower that morning…

This was not acceptable. If he thought he'd get her attention with this little stunt…

"Ms. Waldorf, Charles Bass is here to see you," one of the detectives announced.

Immediately, Blair rose to her feet. Dan followed suit.

Another detective stopped him. "Mr. Bass said just Ms. Waldorf, only Ms. Waldorf. He was very specific."

"Maybe he wants to confess?" Blair suggested.

"Unlikely," was Dan's response.

"We'll see."

* * *

Blair forced herself to appear calm and move slowly, but inside her heart was pounding and adrenaline was coursing through her body.

She turned around to shut the door to Interrogation Room 2 before facing her quarry.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Bass. Are you here to confess?"

"So formal. The woman I had breakfast with was much more relaxed. Did you not like the flowers I sent? I believe peonies are your favorite. Perhaps I was misinformed?"

She glared at him, trying not to be taken in by the navy day suit with the matching shirt patterned in blues and purples. His jawline was freshly shaven and his hair artfully arranged, not a hair out of place. She remembered her fingers tangling in those dark locks and how tousled they had looked that morning. And then she glared some more. He had no right to look as polished as he did after the wild night they had just spent.

"The flowers are lovely, thank you." She took a seat across the table from him.

"Should I be here to confess something?" Oh, he sounded innocent enough.

"You tell me." She met his eyes and did not look away.

They were verbally fencing and she found herself relaxing a bit more as they fell into a dueling pattern.

"I'll confess that I've missed you today."

She rolled her eyes. "If you aren't here to confess stealing _The Empress_ , then why are you here?"

"Well, since you haven't answered or returned any of my calls…," he drawled.

"I've been busy. I am at work, you know."

"Hard at work, no doubt, chasing down all sorts of nefarious thieves."

"What about you?"

"Not doing as exciting as chasing thieves, but I was hard at work," he moved closer and touched the tips of her fingers, "but then I couldn't get you out of my mind and I really was hard at work."

A shiver went through her. She told herself it was a shudder of revulsion.

Suddenly, the room was plunged into complete darkness.

Blair blinked to allow her eyes to adjust to the lack of lighting. She heard the scraping sound of Chuck's chair on the tile floor and then he had her hand in his and was pulling her up.

He didn't seem very surprised by the sudden blackout.

"What did you do?" she hissed.

"The lighting and security system here is one of mine. We don't have much time. In about twenty seconds, the lights will be back on, so I'm going to kiss you now." It was only fair to warn her.

She didn't have time to protest, nor could she with his lips covering hers and electrifying every nerve in her body. She just kissed him back with everything she had in her, despite the table that remained between them.

"Tomorrow," he whispered against her lips, "I want to take you flying with me. Will you go?"

She nodded.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes," she whispered back.

The emergency lighting system came up right on cue, revealing the pair looking cool and collected across the table.

As far as Chuck Bass was concerned, it had been a very productive meeting.

* * *

"Charles, you're not listening again," Dr. Cerra pointed out during their afternoon session.

No response.

"The sound of a kiss is not so loud as that of a cannon, but its echo lasts a great deal longer."

"Who said that?" Now he was back in the game.

"Oliver Wendell Holmes, but it certainly applies to you."

"I've met someone."

"Yes, we established that at your last session. I must say I'm surprised."

"Why? This is hardly the first time I've been out with a woman before," he pointed out.

"Charles, you go through women like you go through Kleenex. They're never around long enough for you to reveal yourself to them…until now."

"I don't need to reveal myself to Blair. She has files on me. And what she doesn't know, she has an uncanny knack for figuring out."

Dr. Cerra flat out laughed at his reluctant admission. "And you don't have files on her as well?"

Chuck smirked. "A gentleman never tells."

"Did it ever occur to you that you are perhaps so intrigued by her because you are so alike?"

"I wouldn't say 'alike' exactly. More of a…."

"A mirror image? With some things reflected and others distorted, but enough to keep your attention."

"She is perfect in her imperfections," he agreed. "Do you think two wrongs could make a twisted right?" He uttered the words without thinking.

"The question is, do you? This is more time and effort than you usually spend on your…what did you call it…entertainment? You're breaking your own rules. Does that concern you?"

Everything she was saying was true. And it should have terrified him, but somehow it only captivated him further.

"I'm surprised you aren't running for the hills right about now."

" _I'm_ not."

"Oh, but she is?" Dr. Cerra let out a little chuckle. "Oh, Charles, I like this girl. I really do."

The trouble was that he did too.

* * *

"Um, that's not your corporate jet." It was stating the obvious, but Blair felt it needed to be said.

"No, it's a glider. Have you ever been up in one before?"

She shook her head. "Isn't it just a mini-plane?"

"It's a heavier-than-air craft without an engine. It's powered by wind forces."

She looked dubious.

"And you can fly this thing?"

He nodded. "It's as close as soaring through the air as a human can get."

Blair was tempted to point out that being pleasured by him produced the same feeling without imminent fear of crashing and dying. She remained silent.

"I've flown this glider many times and I'm licensed. Trust me?"

"Can I?" she countered.

"What do you think?"

She wanted to argue that asking in that low, seductive voice and gazing at her with heavy-lidded, imploring eyes was cheating, but she just sniffed and walked toward the glider.

A few minutes later, they were secured in the fuselage, being towed by a conventional plane….and then they were rising…

Rising…

Rising…

When they reached the desired altitude, Chuck released the tow rope and they were free…

Gliding through the air…

Sailing through the skies…

Blair was enchanted. "This is glorious!"

Chuck grinned. "I'm glad you think so. Hold on tight!"

She barely had time to grab onto the side rails when he banked the craft into a barrel roll. Before she could stop it, a cry of delight escaped her lips.

"Don't let go!" he warned, this time executing a flawless loop.

Her exclamation of excitement turned his grin into a slow smile. When the glider returned to its normal position, Chuck leaned forward until he was level with the shell of her ear. "I wish I could've seen your face when we did that."

She was secretly relieved he couldn't see her eyes squeeze shut for the merest second or feel the shudder that went through her when his breath brushed her ear.

"I want you to take the stick."

"What?!" She was stunned. "No, I couldn't," she tried to demur.

"You can. I'm right here with you."

She shook her head.

"Wouldn't you like to try it? C'mon, don't tell me the amazing Blair Waldorf is afraid to take the reins."

"I'm not afraid of anything!"

"Then why be shy? You weren't this shy night before last," he reminded her.

He could feel her getting flustered, so he stretched his arms around her seat and placed his hands over hers, entwining their fingers and wrapping them around the front control stick.

"Just relax." His voice was in her ear again. With Chuck's guidance, they were sailing over ridges and hills, trees and fields.

Slowly, Chuck released her fingers. He didn't want to, truth be told, but Blair deserved the chance to try it on her own. His hands came up to rest on her shoulders. "Blair, you're flying."

"I'm flying!"

The morning passed in a flurry of new sights and sensations, until finally, Chuck set them down in the middle of a green field that was straight out of a pastoral painting.

When the canopy opened, Blair looked around and blinked. "Cows? Where are we?"

"A long way from Manhattan, that's for sure."

"You don't know?!" Blair's voice was rising along with her panic. "Don't you usually have a flight plan?"

"Usually, yes. I'm in uncharted territory with you." His words had more than one meaning.

She said nothing as he got out his phone and made some calls.

* * *

An hour and a half later, they were en route to the airport where the Bass jet was waiting.

"Was this more what you had in mind?" Chuck asked.

"It's what I was envisioning, yes." Blair looked around the well-appointed cabin of the plane. "But I couldn't have imagined anything like this morning's flight."

"Even with a landing straight out of the _American Gothic_ painting?'

"Especially that." Her tone was dry, but her lips curved into a smile.

"Then you're really going to like my plans for the afternoon."

"And what are they?" Blair looked out and all she could see was water in all directions. "Chuck, I don't think that's one of the Great Lakes."

"It's the Atlantic, actually. I thought maybe we'd visit an island that isn't Manhattan."

Blair frowned. "I have appointments."

"Do you want to keep them?"

She sighed. "I don't have my passport."

"We don't need passports."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm Chuck Bass."

She rolled her eyes. "Wait, don't tell me, you own the island. It's not enough that you own so much of Manhattan that they'll start calling it Basshattan any time now?"

"Basshattan," he let the word roll around on his tongue. "I like the sound of that."

"You do live well."

"I do," he agreed. "So come live with me for the next 48 hours. No detectives. No paparazzi. No search warrants," he grinned.

It was an offer she couldn't refuse.

* * *

The island was charming. They landed at a tiny airport that was little more than a landing strip and a couple of buildings. Then they piled into a Jeep and set off for the coast.

Once again, Chuck surprised Blair by taking the wheel. "You drive?"

"I am quite the Renaissance man, but please don't tell my chauffeur, Arthur. He'd feel threatened."

As they drove through the countryside that was dotted with small villages, Chuck watched Blair take in everything with curious eyes. When they stopped at an open air market, he was amused by Blair chatting up the saleswomen and bargaining for tropical fruits in fluent French. He imagined she would be equally at home presiding over a European ball. That milquetoast prince was an idiot to ever let her go.

He tried to ignore the growing feeling of anticipation as they drove up the hill to the house he called his island home. He was eager to see what she would think of the place.

The villa was white stucco with red Italian tiles on the roof. It would've been perfectly at home in the hills of Tuscany or on the Amalfi Coast, but here, with the hills on one side and the white sand beach on the other, it was like a perfectly set, flawless diamond.

Sunlight percolated through the trees, warming the blossoms on the vines sprawling over the structure. The soft sea breeze swirled their scent in the air and Blair took a deep breath.

"It's beautiful here. They must be impressed."

"They?"

"Everyone you've brought here before." She didn't say 'all the women,' but it was implied.

He looked her square in the eye. "I've never brought anyone here before. It's just us here, you and me." It was true; the island was his own private retreat. It was suddenly very important that she believe him.

Their eyes locked and, to Blair, it was suddenly very hard to breathe.

They stood there for a moment, each sizing up the other, before Chuck shook it off first.

"C'mon, let me show you the house and then we can go down to the beach for a swim."

She stopped short. "I don't have a swimsuit. I don't have any clothes!"

"Alluring as it sounds for you to play the naked mermaid, there are two bags of clothing packed for you in the car."

"You brought me clothes? Was this a planned Bassnapping?!" she sputtered.

"Was it planned? Yes, of course. It's all I've been thinking about since you put on that prim little dress and walked out of my house the other morning. But admit it, Blair, is this really so bad? Are you here against your will? Because if you are, I'll call for the jet right now and we can go back to New York."

"Maybe we should enjoy the beach first," she begrudgingly admitted.

* * *

When she came back outside a few minutes later, she marveled that he could still look just as GQ cover-perfect in swim trunks and a partly unbuttoned, short-sleeved Oxford as he did in bespoke tailoring.

Chuck ran his eyes over the filmy cover-up that attempted to conceal the dark purple string bikini under it. "Does everything fit to your satisfaction?"

"Well, I haven't tried everything yet, but this seems to. I don't know how you knew that, but you did."

"I'm very observant."

She smiled and he smiled back at her.

"It's not necessary to wear the cover-up, you know. There are no prying eyes here."

"Prying? No. Preying? Perhaps."

"Admiring, certainly. You're the most beautiful woman on this island."

She laughed at that. "That's not saying anything. This is a very small island."

"This island. Manhattan. Any island of any size. My bet's on you." He took her hand and wrapped it in his before setting off down the path to the beach.

"You're doing your best to charm me, Bass."

"Is it working?"

"We'll see." Her tone was forbidding, but the flirtatious look in her eyes was encouraging.

When they'd covered the short distance to the beach, Blair slipped out of her cover-up and sandals while Chuck unbuttoned his shirt. Hand in hand once more, they walked through sand that was like warm powdered sugar right into the ocean.

"How deep is it?" Blair asked as the water level climbed up their legs toward their waists.

"Just a few feet. Just right for a swim."

"The temperature is perfect." She was practically purring.

"Then you won't mind if I do this," he let go of her hand and used both of his to splash her.

She splashed back as good as she was getting, until their impromptu battle evolved into a lazy swim.

Eventually, Chuck noticed that Blair was shivering. "Are you cold?"

"I wasn't before, but I am now."

"Come here, I'll keep you warm." His arms were spread in invitation.

She didn't hesitate.

Wrapped in his arms, their bodies sharing heat, she realized their mouths were close together…so close…

"Can we stop pretending now? That this hasn't been what we've been thinking about all day?"

She could feel the breath exhaled with his words and she could almost taste his lips.

Suddenly, almost was not nearly enough.

She dove into the kiss and let the sensations wash over her like the water that was lapping at their sides. She no longer felt any coldness or any other outside stimuli; there was just Chuck…his lips…his tongue…his hands…and the water surrounding them.

She was floating into him, her arms wrapping around his neck like a lifeline as he planted kisses down her neck and across her shoulders.

His fingers were tangled in her wet hair and he seemed to be working to get them free, though his lips had returned to hers and were otherwise engaged in kissing her senseless.

Nothing in her life had ever felt this good.

He was touching her…everywhere. The expanse of her back, the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips and the silky softness of her thighs.

She just held on, savoring the intoxicating friction between the softness of her body and the hardness of his, the delicious tickle of the hair of his bare chest on hers…

And that was when she realized…she no longer had her bikini top.

"You—you stole my swimsuit!"

"I've been accused of worse," he whispered in her ear.

"The bottoms too! What are you going to take next?" she demanded.

 _Your heart._ The words were on the tip of his tongue, but thankfully he was silenced by an encore kiss.

"I'm going to steal yours right back!"

Whether she was talking about his heart or his swim trunks or any other part of him, he was open to it all.

So when she shoved his trunks down, wrapped her legs around his waist and lowered herself onto his cock, he was more than ready for her.

Immersed in the ocean and each other, with their swim togs floating around them, Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf were together and all was right with the world.

To Be Continued in Chapter 8

* * *

Author's Note:

I'm sure some of you are wondering why this isn't Shrk22's _Define Kiss_ birthday ficlet. While I was trying to get into Kissverse CB's head, Bassverse CB kept interrupting and going on about how much they wanted to go on a tropical holiday. I can't help it; they schemed against me. I'm so proud. So, yes, more Kissverse CB is coming, just not right now. Shrk22, I hope this chapter is an acceptable birthday offering.

What did you think of this installment, readers? I'm always thrilled to hear from you. Special thanks to ChuckBlair8, Mercury1893, purplebowties and Klarobass for their kind words and support for ch6.

Until next time, readers!

Xoxo


	8. Chapter 8

_Last time in the Bassverse: Chuck paid a surprise visit to Blair at the precinct, took her flying in his glider, and then convinced her to go away with him to his private island retreat._

"I guess we won't be going to Daniel for dinner tonight," Blair remarked.

They were lazily making their way up the path from the beach, still holding hands.

"I have something else in mind. I'll cook."

"You'll cook?" Did she sound surprised or cynical?

"I had the pantry and refrigerator stocked before we got here. There should be some fresh fish caught just this morning and some vegetables. You brought the fruit for dessert. And if you don't appreciate my chef endeavors, I'll simply ply you with champagne until you agree it's the best dinner you've ever had."

"And where do today's young billionaires learn culinary skills? I thought you grew up in one of your father's hotels?"

"I did. And what do all good hotels have? An excellent kitchen staff. The food can make or break a hospitality establishment. I watched and learned."

"I'm surprised you don't still live in a hotel. It's convenient, after all." There was an implied question there.

"Convenient…but impersonal. I wanted somewhere I could make my own mark, not just another property that's part of Bass Industries."

She nodded in understanding and he actually felt that she did. "I still stay at my mother's apartment when I'm in New York. Same room I've had all my life. Well, most of it anyway."

"And what do I have to do to get an invitation into Blair Waldorf's boudoir?"

"I hardly think you'll be impressed by my mirrored vanity and Marie Antoinette wall mural."

"Does it have a bed with you in it? Perhaps you missed your calling as an interior designer?"

"I'm very happy with my career. It can be very intellectually satisfying."

"But don't you have other needs to be satisfied?"

"Well, I'm going to need a shower and some dinner, for starters."

"For starters," he agreed.

They were both laughing as they entered the house.

* * *

Blair sank back into the cushioned chair on the patio after they finished dinner. "I'm beginning to think you were the one who missed his calling. Dinner was wonderful," she sighed. "You don't even have to bribe me with liquor to agree."

"You don't want your champagne then?" Chuck was carrying a filled glass for each of them when he came over to sit beside her.

"Maybe just a sip," she conceded, accepting the flute with outstretched fingers.

He smiled as he raised his glass to hers in a toast. "What should we drink to? An aspiring interior designer and a would-be chef finding each other in a crazy world?"

"There's a world crazier than a billionaire thief and an insurance investigator spending the evening in a tropical paradise?" The corners of her mouth turned up before she took a drink of the champagne.

"I think whatever world we were living in, our paths would have crossed. We are right where we're supposed to be."

"Do you really believe that? That's putting a lot of trust in fate, don't you think?" It sounded like she was really contemplating the question.

"I do. But I don't have to trust fate. I trust me. I trust you."

"Can you?" She meant the words to be light, not an earnest question.

His jaw clenched. "Oh, I'm under no illusions. I know you called your detective friend after we got here and I'm sure you searched my bags and bedroom after your shower."

She met his eyes briefly and then looked away. How much easier would this be if she really could trust him? "Doesn't that tell you that I don't trust you?" She ventured a look back at his face.

He was still looking at her. "It tells me far less than the fact that you're here with me in the first place."

"What do you attribute that to?"

"What we have," he said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And what do we have? Chemistry?"

"Chemistry's part of it," he admitted. "What I'm talking about is connection."

"Connection?"

"Here." He splayed his fingers over her stomach and the butterflies inside came alive in a dizzying swirl.

"Here." He was entangled in the waves of hair just above her temples. It was all she could do not to sigh.

"And here." One hand moved down and over her heart. She was almost embarrassed by the way it responded; she could feel its racing rhythm all through her body.

Suddenly, she had to know if he felt it too. Her hand rose of its own accord to rest on the center of his chest. And the she could feel it, the rapid, steady echo of her own heartbeat.

They stood frozen for a moment, just looking at each other, before Blair sprang back as if she'd been shocked by a jolt of electricity.

"I'm going inside. It's a bit chilly." It was an outright lie; she felt as if she were burning up from the inside out. She needed to escape.

Chuck let her go. He wanted to stop her, to tell her not to be scared, but he feared he'd told her too much already. And he was terrified himself.

Distance…and a change of subject…that's what was needed.

She was inspecting the bookshelves in his small office when she came across it. "A chess set!"

"Do you play?"

"I haven't played in ages. I used to play with my father…and later my stepfather."

"Think you remember how it's done?"

"I guess we'll find out." She handed the set to Chuck and took a seat at the small table.

"Would you like some more champagne?" Chuck was ever the considerate host.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Bass? You may win, but I don't want to make it too easy for you."

"Merely wondering if you were thirsty," he shrugged.

"It just so happens that I am. Here, I'll pour and you make sure we are set up to play."

They set to their respective tasks and then settled down to business.

"Ready?"

"Game on, Bass."

"Ladies first," he gestured to Blair, who was playing White.

It seemed only right that he play the mysterious Black.

Yin and Yang.

The game's opening moves started casually enough, but as the play progressed, tension began to mount.

By middlegame, Chuck had decided that Blair remembered all too well how to play this game and that she was a formidable opponent.

He needed all his focus to counter her moves and she wasn't making it easy.

It started with her brushing the hair from her neck and pulling it back, revealing more of that silky, swan-like neck to him. It seemed to be calling to him, tempting him to trail kisses down…down…

His jaw clenched.

Dear God, you could cut diamonds with that jawline, she thought. Diamonds. Must focus. She returned her eyes to the board.

Blair was absently stroking her chin, deep in thought, not noticing that her fingertips were growing ever closer to her lower lip.

It did not escape Chuck's notice. He suppressed a groan and dragged a hand through his hair.

Her eyes flew up and met his, taking in the now tousled locks and wanting to thread her fingers through it and mess it up just a little bit more.

Focus, focus.

Her fingers were on the fullness of her lower lip now and the tip of her tongue came out… It was so close to her fingertip.

God, she was killing him. Were these little erotic gestures subconscious or was this all part of a strategy to distract him? If so, it was working…too well.

They were at endgame now. The stakes were never higher…

He needed to concentrate on the game, but he couldn't take his eyes off her.

As if she could feel his gaze upon her, she looked up…and the burning amber of his eyes captured hers. She couldn't look away.

"Check." She was no longer looking at the board, and her voice sounded breathy and weak.

"No wonder you're so good at this game. The queen is the most powerful piece on the board."

She smiled, but was still looking at him.

He pushed back his chair and stood up, stepping around the table and pulling Blair to her feet as well.

"Do you concede?" she asked. "Is this a draw?"

"It's foreplay. I think we should play another kind of game now."

He pulled her into his arms (or did she fall?) and then there were no more games: Just Chuck and Blair and the night.

* * *

When he awoke several hours later, Chuck's first thought was that he was in heaven. All he could feel was the warm softness of her body draped over his. Their soundtrack was the sounds of her breathing. And he could still taste her on his lips, on his tongue. He sighed, savoring the whole experience.

She shifted in her sleep, sliding her body off his.

His reacted swiftly, primally, without thinking. "No," he reached to pull her back to him.

"Chuck, no, I'm too heavy," she protested in a voice still cloudy with sleep.

He was going to protest that she was a delicious counterbalance, but she turned over and curled on her side, her body almost touching his.

Almost wasn't good enough.

He rolled onto his side as well, snaking an arm around her waist and nuzzling his face into her neck.

She leaned back into his embrace, settling into his arms with a contented purr.

888

When they awoke the next morning, the sun was already high in the sky with a promise a new day.

A covered basket was waiting for them on the patio.

"What's that?" Blair asked.

"Breakfast!" Chuck began to unpack a repast of coffee, fruit, rolls, and butter and jelly. "My caretakers take their mission seriously."

"It's good to be Chuck Bass?" Blair laughed.

"It is now," he agreed. "I'm afraid we'll have to limit our adventuring to the morning. I have some business associates flying in this afternoon for a meeting."

"No fair! This isn't a working vacation for me."

"Isn't it?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe a little. I am now 110% certain you do not have any hidden jewels on your person."

"And if you're not, you're certainly welcome to strip search me again."

They both laughed as they settled down on the patio to enjoy their meal.

Except Blair didn't seem to be enjoying her meal. She picked at her fruit and wasn't even touching the fluffy, sweet rolls.

He frowned. "Is there something wrong with your food?"

She shook her head. "No, of course not."

"You're not eating very much. I know it's not quite the same as having your own French pastry chef, but I assure you, the rolls are quite good."

"I'm sure they are." She made no move to try one.

He decided on the direct approach: "Why?"

She hesitated. She wished he'd stop looking at her in that intent way, like he was compelling her to give up all her secrets. "Chuck, I -."

His hand reached out to cover hers. "Look, I know about the bulimia in high school, but that was a long time ago."

He was trying to understand. It wasn't his fault that he didn't. "Maybe not that long." Her reply was cryptic.

"What do you mean?"

"There have been incidents since then. Specifically when I was married to Louis."

"I know you must have been unhappy to have left…"

She took a deep breath and exhaled before continuing. "It was hell…every day. Nothing was what I expected. It started almost immediately after the wedding. Louis was almost always off somewhere on royal business. So I was alone…with Queen Sophie. She hated me from the first."

He sat in silence for a moment, waiting for her to go on.

"Nothing I ever did was enough to please her, but the worst came not long after the wedding when the tabloids took a, shall we say, rather unflattering photo of me and began speculating that I was pregnant. She sent for me and demanded to know if it was true."

She looked up at him. "It wasn't. She was bitterly disappointed. Louis had been very eager to marry me and she somehow assumed it was because there was a child on the way. She acted as if I'd defrauded her in some way. She lectured me on my duty to provide an heir. She said she would have the kitchen staff put me on a special diet, because if I wasn't pregnant, she certainly didn't want me fat."

He was still holding her hand, his grip getting stronger the angrier he became listening to her story.

"I think I was in shock after that conversation. I went back to my suite…and I purged. And just like that, my eating disorder was back. I felt like I had to get control over something in my life. I tried harder with Louis, but he seemed to like the idea of having a wife better than actually having one."

"What did he say about how his mother was treating you?"

"She's his Queen, as well as his mother. He said she was just concerned about the line of succession and I shouldn't worry about not being pregnant yet. It would happen in due time. Except it never did. As the months went by, I think even Louis started to think it was my fault." Her voice cracked and she looked away from Chuck.

"Did you see a doctor?"

"No, I couldn't…because a doctor would find out about…."

"Your eating disorder," Chuck confirmed. "It's a condition, Blair, it's not some shameful secret."

"It was to me."

"What did your mother say about all of this?"

"I couldn't tell her either. She sacrificed to pay my dowry, so I could have my fairytale. How could I possibly tell her it was a living nightmare?"

"Don't you think she wanted you to be happy and healthy?"

"I know she did; she does. That was precisely why I couldn't tell her."

He squeezed her hand. The thought of her suffering through that alone gutted him.

"It…escalated. By the time I left Louis, I hadn't kept any food down in over a week."

"How did you get out?"

"It sounds like I was a prisoner," she smiled wryly, "It certainly felt like I was at the time. But then Nate and Serena unexpectedly paid a visit," her smile was genuine now, "and they persuaded me to come back to New York with them. I left and I never looked back."

"I wish I had known you then." He didn't have to say that he would've been there for her.

"You would've stormed the palace and rescued me?" She squeezed his hand back. "Thank you, but the only place I need a dark knight is on the chess board. I'm just embarrassed, because the whole thing makes me feel like a weak little girl."

He took both her hands then and kissed each one in turn. "You are the most powerful woman I know."

Chuck then returned to his breakfast, splitting a roll and silently offering her half, prepared to accept that she might turn it down.

She slowly reached out and took it, before spreading it with a thin layer of berry jam. "Chuck?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

He knew her gratitude was for more than breakfast.

* * *

Chuck hired a boat to take them around the island after breakfast. At first, they skimmed the white sand beaches of the coast before going out further over reefs where the cerulean waters were so transparent they could see fish darting in and out of the coral.

They went further still and from this perspective, Blair was better able to appreciate the deep green of the forested hills of the island. It looked like a precious emerald set against the perfect backdrop of the sea. Chuck had so much to lose. How could he leverage this against a diamond necklace, no matter how historic or valuable? It was a dangerous game.

"Blair, look!" Chuck pointed further out to sea.

"Is that -?"

"A pod of dolphins, yes."

The group of mammals numbered about twenty, including some young calves.

Blair was enchanted. "They're swimming closer to us!"

"They're very social animals."

As if on cue, some of the males at the perimeter of the pod began diving in and out of the water in an entertaining display.

"I think they are trying to impress you," Chuck speculated.

"Whatever will you do to compete?"

He whispered something very naughty in her ear.

She blushed, but the look in her eye was far from innocent.

The dolphins swam near the boat as a sort of marine escort until they turned the boat towards one of the villages on the coast.

They disembarked from the boat, with Chuck giving the boatman instructions on when to return, and then they set off walking through town, enjoying the sights and smells that surrounded them.

They wandered into a distillery, where they watched rum being made. There was a sampling bar at the end of the tour.

"What's this? It looks like a buffet."

"You can make your own Ti Punch," Chuck explained. "Ti Punch is based on a type of rum made with raw cane juice instead of molasses. Then you add sugar cane syrup and lime to your taste. Wanna try?"

She fiddled with the ingredients until she decided she had the best possible mix. "Mm, this is so good. I know it's not your usual hundred-year-old scotch, but you should really try this." She offered him her glass and was gratified when he seemed to enjoy the punch as well.

They were walking back toward the dock when Blair exclaimed, "What is that wonderful smell?"

A roadside stand featured a sign that read Poulet Boukane.

"The chicken is roasted over sugar cane and then served with a spicy sauce. It's a delicacy here. Shall we have some for lunch?"

He didn't have to ask twice. It was a relief to see her enjoy the meal, though he was under no illusions that her eating disorder didn't cast long shadows and wasn't an ongoing struggle for her.

* * *

When they returned to the villa, Chuck prepared for his meeting and Blair prepared to make herself scarce. She had no plans to spy on him or even give the appearance of doing so. Armed with a floppy hat and a book to read, she headed down to the beach.

When she returned two hours later, she was surprised to see Chuck still engaged in conversation with three men in business suits on the patio. She was still far enough away that they didn't see her. She could tell they were speaking French, but couldn't make out the words.

Chuck was, of course, at his charismatic and knowledgeable best. He was so good at everything he did. So damn good. Like King Midas, everything he touched turned to gold. She smiled, realizing he'd probably appreciate that comparison.

She watched him for a moment more. Whatever he was bargaining for, she was sure he'd get it. He was powerfully persuasive and she didn't imagine he heard "no" very often.

It suddenly occurred to her who the gentlemen likely were and why they were there. She turned on her heel and walked back toward the beach.

A half hour later, Chuck found her in the beach chair, staring out at the ocean.

"How was business?" Even without looking, she knew he was there.

"Good. A very productive meeting."

"It's helpful to have good people. Transferring assets can be so complicated sometimes." There was a hard edge to her voice.

"What do you mean?" Why was she so angry?

"Isn't that what you're doing? Transferring assets and getting ready to run?" She did look at him then.

"No," he said slowly.

"Are you going to deny you met with three bankers today?"

"No. It's not a secret. They were here to help finalize some paperwork from the big merger."

She snorted. "Don't lie to me."

He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. "Blair, I have never lied to you." He paused and continued in a softer tone, "And I never will."

Her mouth softened, but she still looked away.

"What if I did run? You'd have no necklace, no finder's fee, and no me. Which do you care about?"

She wasn't ready to answer that question. Blair just looked at him, which was a mistake. Because maybe he saw something in her eyes she wasn't prepared to acknowledge yet.

"You get five percent if you recover the necklace, correct?"

She nodded.

"What if I give you ten?" It was a totally spontaneous decision, but then he'd always made his best deals based on gut instinct.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "To fail?" She made it sound like he'd suggested jumping into a volcano or flying off a building or something else equally impossible.

"To be free"

He waited for an angry retort or a haughty glare. Instead, she took him completely by surprise. "How would I hide it?"

"I could show you."

She couldn't look at him. She just knew he was doing that persuasive thing he did with his eyes again. Was he even serious? She felt panicked and desperate for some control here. Summoning up her most cynical tone, she asked, "Do you think there's a 'happy ever after' for people like us?"

His mouth twisted. "I wouldn't know. I've never been happy before."

The words, starkly stated, were a shock to her system, but they resonated as Blair realized they were true for her as well.

Her hand came up to cup his jaw and force his eyes to meet hers. "Maybe all we have is right now. Let's just be happy together."

She placed a light kiss on his lips that deepened until they were clinging to each other and sliding down onto the sand…

Then they forgot about the future, and lived only for today and each other.

To Be Continued in Chapter 9

* * *

Author's Note:

Well, Chuck and Blair are still in paradise, but clearly not without some trouble. There have been secrets shared, and has Chuck just made her an offer she can't refuse? We'll see.

Chuck's island is based on Martinique, because that's the location featured in the 1999 version of _The Thomas Crown Affair_. The food and drink descriptions are authentic and you can really see pods of dolphins, according to my research.

Confession: I don't play chess myself, so my knowledge of the game is limited. Hopefully, I managed to pull it off. The chess scene from the 1968 version of the film is so iconic that I simply had to include it.

Disclaimer: This chapter is unbetaed, so I hope it's relatively error-free.

Do let me know how you feel about this chapter and the story. I love hearing from readers and am often inspired by their thoughts. Mercury1893 asked several chapters back if Blair would have a vulnerable side and that has appeared in this chapter. Special thanks to her, Chrys1130, Shrk22, Kananox, Almaloney33, Klarobass, ChuckBlair8, purplebowties, and guest reviewer Laura for their feedback on the last chapter.

Much love to all my readers. Hope you are enjoying your summer so far.

Xoxo


	9. Chapter 9

_Last time in the Bassverse: Chuck and Blair's vacation bliss continued. Blair shared secrets about her history and Chuck made Blair a very tempting offer._

"Let's go out to dinner tonight, since it's our last night on the island," Chuck suggested.

He and Blair were entangled in each other, sprawled in the beach chair and still high from the afterglow.

"Eat? I don't even think I can move."

"Then we'll just stay here as long as you want." His arms tightened around her.

"Forever?" Her sleepy eyes squeezed shut in bliss.

"Mm hmm," Chuck's assent was whispered in her ear as his eyes fell closed.

'Forever' lasted all of hour.

"Chuck?" Blair sing-songed playfully.

"Hmm?" He was still half-asleep.

"Maybe we should go have dinner soon?"

"You do have the most wonderful ideas, Miss Waldorf." He stretched his limbs and stifled a yawn.

* * *

When they walked back to the villa, Blair headed straight for the shower, with Chuck close behind.

He got in with her, stealing an arm around her waist and pulling her body flush against his as warm water cascaded down on them both.

Blair let out a surprised sigh.

"You don't mind?" he whispered against her neck. "It's faster this way."

She shook her head and leaned back into him. "Saves water too."

"And they say big business doesn't care about the environment."

Blair went through the closet after their shower, trying to decide what to wear. They were plenty of choices, some she hadn't even worn yet. Her eyes settled, however, on a red, ruffled, off-the-shoulder sundress. It was flirty and fun and just right for a party on an island night. All of his choices had suited her perfectly and fit just as well. Perhaps Waldorf Designs should hire him as a consultant.

She swept her hair into a low chignon, the better to show off the neck she knew he loved, and finished off her look with a swipe of cherry lipstick.

Satisfied she was ready, she went in search of Chuck. He was in front of the bathroom mirror, towel slung low on his hips, shaving. He was so focused on the task that Blair got the luxury of watching for a few moments, unnoticed. She loved watching the razor glide over the planes of his face, almost stroking that chiseled jaw, and leaving smooth, pristine skin in its wake.

Then he noticed her in the mirror and smiled. "You're ready early."

"I'm hungry," she confessed, "And lunch was so delicious, I can't wait to see what's for dinner."

His eyes swept over her appreciatively. "If I look at you in that dress any longer, it's going to be you."

"You need to save your strength for later in the evening," she cautioned.

He wiped the last traces of shaving soap off his face but couldn't hide his grin. "Then you need to quit tempting me and let me finish getting ready. You're a distraction."

The feeling was altogether mutual.

* * *

It was a charmed evening.

He took her to a little restaurant on the water. They enjoyed delicious island fare, Blair ordering the Langouste Grille (grilled spiny lobster) while Chuck selected the stuffed crab. Blair was delighted when they brought her rum punch and it came with raw cane sugar and lime on a little saucer on the side, just like the ti punch she'd had at lunch.

"I think you like that punch so much because you like being in control," Chuck teased.

"What's wrong with knowing what you like?" She was talking about more than the punch.

As the sun set, a band of local musicians began to play. Soon the strains of saxophone mingled with steel drums reached their ears.

When Chuck suggested dessert, Blair countered with the offer for a dance.

One dance turned into two, then three…

Slow dances, faster numbers, even a romantic tango.

The magic of the music and the movement and the thrill of being in each other's arms was irresistible.

Time slipped by and they were quite surprised when the band began packing up their instruments because the restaurant was closing.

They were almost back to the villa when Chuck got an email message from his European bankers. He excused himself to respond to that and deal with some other business correspondence while Blair got ready for bed.

A half hour later, he was finished and went into the bedroom to find Blair fast asleep on the bed. She was wearing a vintage lavender chemise he'd chosen and she looked so beautiful in it, with her dark curls cascading around her that his heart felt like it stopped for a second.

He couldn't bear to wake her, so he carefully spread a light blanket over her, turned out the lamp and crawled into bed, wrapping himself around her.

She stirred for a second. "Good night," she whispered.

It is now, he thought.

* * *

When he awoke the next morning, Chuck was still entangled with Blair, the warmth and softness of her body suffusing into his. His first thought was that he wanted to wake up just like this every morning for the rest of his life. Was this what being happy meant? The thought was so alien, so unlike his usual self, that he immediately went into denial.

He was in denial when he woke Blair with a kiss…

When she enthusiastically returned that kiss…

There was an air of frenzied desperation to their coupling, as they were both aware their island idyll was coming to end and they wanted to hold onto these final stolen moments as long as possible.

The rest of the morning and the flight home passed by in a haze. Before Chuck knew it, Arthur was pulling up to the curb in front of Blair's building.

For a moment, they just sat there in the limo, evening shadows showing through the moon roof. Slowly, Chuck started to remove his arm from around Blair and disengage their linked fingers. He reached for the door handle…

"Chuck, what are you doing?"

"Getting ready to walk you in, of course."

"You can't."

"What?!"

"You're still under surveillance, and I can't endanger my job further by you being seen going into my apartment late in the evening."

He wanted to argue that she'd spent the entire night at his brownstone and had been photographed leaving the next morning, so this was a bit like locking the barn door after the horses had all been stolen. He opened his mouth to argue.

"Chuck, please?" How was he supposed to deny those doe eyes anything?

"I could stop all this, you know. One call to Cyrus, my lawyer, or to the chief of police, and this investigation is over."

Now it was her turn to try to argue.

"Stop," he raised his hand. "You know there's no real evidence, merely that you think I took that necklace."

"I know you did; there's no 'think' about it."

"If that's the case, then have you given any further consideration to my offer of ten percent?"

"Don't joke." She frowned.

"You and I both know that offer was serious and made in good faith."

Oh, God, he was looking at her now…so intensely.

He took her hands in his. "Blair, we don't have to be here. We could go anywhere in the world. We can leave tomorrow…."

"And all I would have to give up is my career and my integrity. No, thank you, Mr. Bass. Some things are non-negotiable."

"Blair -."

She cut him off. "I'm going in. We've sat here too long already." She unlinked her fingers from his and sighed. "Just kiss me goodnight, Chuck Bass."

It was an especially bittersweet kiss. He wanted to show her what she was giving up; he wanted to give her something to miss.

It felt like he'd dove into the deep end…and wasn't able to swim.

"Thank you…for the island." Her lips were almost touching his. "It was…amazing."

She slid back across the seat and reached for the door latch. "I'll be in touch," she promised.

And then she was gone.

* * *

"Do you think it's possible to become addicted to another person?"

Dr. Isabelle Cerra almost did a double take at the unexpected question from her favorite client. "What makes you think could be addicted to this person?"

"I think I'm experiencing withdrawal symptoms."

"You mean you miss her," Dr. Cerra smiled.

"It's more complicated than that," Chuck stated.

Dr. Cerra waited (not so) patiently.

"I've been…distracted. I can't sleep. I'm not hungry. I feel…sick."

"You don't think it's some flu going around?" It was evil, she knew, but she just couldn't resist the subtle dig.

He gave her a rebuking look.

She returned the look with an apologetic sigh. "How long has this been going on?"

"Three days." Seven hours, fifty-two minutes. Not that he was counting.

"How was your trip? She accompanied you?"

He nodded. "It was…amazing." He was using her words, but he could not argue with their accuracy.

"And then what happened?"

"We came back to New York. I dropped her off at her apartment. Since then, other than a couple of texts, I haven't heard from her. I went to her office only to find she's out of town on assignment."

"Did she say how long she'd be gone?"

"Only that she hoped it would be just a few days." He omitted the suggestive banter in her other texts.

"Well, then it appears you won't have to suffer for much longer."

He looked doubtful. "You aren't concerned about these reactions?"

"No, it seems like you're missing her, which is typical of this stage of courtship."

"Stage of courtship?" If she'd suggested he had some exotic, terminal disease, he could not have sounded more shocked and disgusted.

"Yes, courtship. What else would you call this relationship with Miss Waldorf?"

"Relationship? What on earth would you make think that's what's going on here?"

Oh, denial, thy name is Chuck Bass.

"What are these so-called stages?" he demanded.

Dr. Cerra settled further back in her chair. This might take a little while. "Well, there's the Initial Meeting/Attraction Stage. You were attracted at first meeting, were you not?"

He snorted. Blair was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and he'd known plenty of beautiful women, sexy women. What red-blooded male wouldn't be attracted? Even that lump Humphrey was probably having erotic daydreams about her right now.

Dr. Cerra took the snort as assent. "Then comes the Curiosity/Interest Stage."

That, too, had been instantaneous. He said nothing, but Isabelle could see him processing the information in his mind.

"You two seem to have sped right through the first two stages and into Enlightenment/Coupling."

"Coupling?" The eyebrow rose and the smirk appeared for the briefest second.

"I mean more than physically, Charles." Sometimes the schoolteacher just came out. "Developing trust. Discovering each other's flaws and weaknesses. Becoming closer. It sounds like your little honeymoon was a wonderful part of this stage."

"Oh, no, no, no, this was not a honeymoon." He shook his head. "Chuck Bass does not do 'honeymoons'."

"It wasn't? Charles, were you or were you not on a trip, away from everyone else you know, solely focused on each other?"

Put that way….

"And do you or do you not feel closer to her as a result of this trip? Didn't you learn more about her? Show her more of yourself?"

His lips stubbornly remained closed.

"It was a bonding experience."

"Chuck Bass does not do bonding."

"Maybe you haven't before, but can you deny that's what's happening now?"

"This isn't what I expected. This was supposed to be…."

"Entertainment?" She gave him an arch look.

"I can stop this. I can stop this at any time." He sounded just like the addict he'd felt he was when he came into her office.

"You could," Isabelle agreed. "But do you really want to?"

It was a disturbing question.

"And how do you think she feels about these developments?"

That was even more disturbing. He had no idea. When they were together on the island, he'd thought Blair felt the same way he did. That she'd been…happy…with him. But then they'd come back home…and she didn't want him to come upstairs with her…and then she'd left town so suddenly….maybe she wanted to escape…him?

Besides, there was the whole necklace thing between them.

"I don't know," he admitted.

"Then maybe you should find out."

"I'm going to settle this thing. I know exactly what to do."

She wanted to ask what he had in mind, but he was already heading for the door. She was more than a little relieved that he hadn't asked about the next, final step of courtship. She doubted he was ready to hear that it was Commitment/Engagement.

* * *

"Good morning, Humphrey," Blair greeted him with a blinding smile.

There was a sparkle in her eyes, a bounce to her shiny, shampoo commercial curls and that color on her cheeks…was that a tan?

"Looks like you had an enjoyable getaway."

"Very relaxing," she agreed.

"And also informative?"

"I learned he didn't take the necklace out of the country."

"Two days. Two nights. And that's what you learned?"

The color that rose on her cheeks was most definitely not a tan.

"I would've been back at work on the necklace situation, but I got called in on a case in LA."

"And what's the status of that case?"

"Oh, it's solved. Item recovered, case closed."

"But no headway on the Charles Bass case?"

"Not as of yet," she admitted.

"Maybe this will help motivate you then." He plunked another manila envelope down on the desk in front of her.

"Are these vacation photos?" She didn't see how they could be, but she couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from curving into a little smile.

"Hardly," he snorted. "I thought you might want to see what loverboy's been up to since you've been back."

She'd been in the process of pulling the photos out of the envelope when his words stopped her and she pushed the pictures back inside.

He was watching her closely; he wanted to see the moment when the light in her eyes turned to a flaming glare.

Despite the bait, she wasn't biting. She closed the flap on the folder and pushed it towards him.

"You don't want to see?"

"No," she shook her head emphatically.

"Ookay." He took the envelope and began to walk away.

He got four paces away.

"Hand it over, Humphrey," she barked, holding out her hand.

He complied, watching her intently as she leafed through the photos inside.

The smile that had been on her face earlier was now tense and brittle, and the light in her eyes had dimmed.

It hurt. Oh, God, it hurt, and the pain seemed to start in her chest and then go through her entire body. She needed to say something, but she couldn't seem to breathe, much less form words. "She's…er, lovely."

Dan looked over her shoulder at the blonde on Chuck Bass's arm, the same one Chuck had been with at the gala.

Blair was still staring at the pair captured on film. Chuck had his hand at her back, just like he'd held Blair when they were dancing, walking through the island town, strolling down the beach.

After she'd cut in on them at the gala, Blair hadn't given the other girl another thought. Apparently, Chuck had.

Dan stood transfixed by the change in Blair. He'd expected her to be furious, an avenging angel focused on taking Bass down. Instead, she looked like a fallen angel cast out of heaven. This was not what he'd had in mind. "Pfft, she's okay, I guess. Reminds me of my sister."

Blair's facial expression did not change.

He tentatively put a hand on her arm. "Look, I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I just thought you should know what you're dealing with here, so you're prepared the next time Bass comes around, whenever that is."

"Tonight. We're supposed to have dinner tonight." She appeared to shake it off and stand a little taller.

Of course. Why was he not surprised Bass would think he could have them both? It must be nice to be Chuck Bass.

Blair slid the photos back into the envelope and thrust it back into Dan's hands. Then she got her things together and proceeded to exit the room.

"Where are you going? It's 9:30. You just got here." She was okay, wasn't she?

"I need to get ready. I have a date tonight."

The avenging angel had arrived.

* * *

The limo door swung open and suddenly there she was.

He drank her in with his eyes. The long, black evening gown fit her like a satin glove. Her hair was piled high, showing off the porcelain skin of her décolletage, the creamy column of her delicate neck. Red lipstick highlighted the contrast of darkly mysterious eyes framed by inky lashes and the pale silk of her complexion.

He took her hand in his and kissed it. "You look stunning." He breathed the words against her skin and she cursed herself for the shudder that went through her.

She would not be played for a fool. She would not forget her anger with him.

She must not.

Blair carefully crafted her mouth into a smile. She tried to remember how excited she'd been at the thought of seeing him again…before she'd seen those photos this morning.

"Where should we go for dinner tonight?" He began to make suggestions.

And then it hit him.

She was being uncharacteristically quiet.

And her eyes didn't match her mouth.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

"Why should something be wrong? Maybe I just want some _variety_ in my dinners. Maybe I want to go _somewhere new_." She was glaring at him now.

"You know about Jenny then," Chuck concluded.

"Of course I -."

"I wanted you to. In fact, I went to great pains to be photographed with her."

"You twisted bastard!" She very much wanted to slap him at this moment. "If you think I'll just be happy to be part of your little harem…. Or maybe it's not so little? Exactly how many women are you juggling right now?"

"Blair, let me explain," Chuck tried to argue.

She shook his hand off and then crossed her arms. "Arthur, can you pull over please? I want to get out."

The car slowed.

"Arthur, keep driving," Chuck countermanded her request.

The limo sped up.

"You can't keep me here," she pointed out. "Unless you've graduated to stealing people instead of jewels."

"Let me talk to you." He wasn't giving up.

"I'm not interested in your pretty words…or your pretty eyes. Stop looking at me!"

He smiled then. "How am I supposed to look away when you look like that?"

She rolled her eyes. "Arthur, please stop the car." Her tone brooked no argument and the car pulled over to the roadside.

She all but jumped out of the limo and began walking away. The problem was, they were in Central Park and it was dark. Her stiletto heels were sinking into the ground and the evening dew was seeping into the hem of her gown. Nevertheless, she kept walking. She needed to escape….

But Chuck was right behind her, a hand wrapping around her wrist and turning her to face him.

"Just let me go, Chuck!" Her voice cracked on the words.

"I can't. Believe me, I've tried. You have to listen to me. Do you know why I wanted those pictures taken?"

"You photograph well in bespoke tailoring?" It was meant to sound harsh, but her voice cracked again.

His hand came up to cup her chin and tilt her face up to his, when to her everlasting horror, a single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.

"Jenny was not my date; she's sort of my sister. She's my stepmother's stepdaughter, if that makes any sense." He gently wiped the offending teardrop with his thumb. "Blair, I had to know."

"Know what?" She truly couldn't grasp what was happening here.

"If you feel it too. If it's more than just the necklace. If it's real."

"The only thing that's been real about this situation is you and me." Her laughter was bitter. "Couldn't you have just asked?"

"I'm in uncharted waters here," he protested.

"Uncharted waters?"

"3 words, 8 letters: you and me."

She tried to act unaffected, but his words stole her breath away and seduced her senses. "Great, I've finally found something at which you're not naturally adept…and it's relationships." Her jest was softened by her fingers gently stroking his cheek.

Chuck promptly forgot he'd spent the afternoon after his session with Dr. Cerra swearing to himself that he didn't want a girlfriend, didn't want a wife. He only knew that he wanted Blair Waldorf…desperately.

He pulled her into his arms and let his forehead rest on hers.

"So, teach me."

At that moment, Blair realized Chuck had done something far more diabolical than stealing a necklace or a kiss. He had just stolen something she'd sworn she'd never lose again: her heart.

To Be Continued in Chapter 10

* * *

Author's Note:

3 words/8 letters have won the battle, but can they win the war? There are still many challenges for our couple to face.

Family relationships in this story differ from the show, largely because I did 'casting' without much forethought. It's an alternate universe; what can I say?

Special thanks to Chrys1130 and my loyal reader-reviewers Kananox, Almaloney33, Shrk22, Klarobass, purplebowties, mercury1893 and ChuckBlair8.

Xoxo


	10. Chapter 10

_Last time in the Bassverse: Chuck and Blair enjoyed a romantic evening for their last night on the island. Their return, however, had more challenges: maintaining the secrecy of their relationship, jealousy and the revelation that this thing between them is more than either one expected._

Chapter 10

"I missed you, you know." Chuck took a break from nuzzling Blair's neck to murmur the words in her ear.

She shivered in his arms. "Missed you more."

"How do you figure?" He was trailing his lips down her neck and concentration was becoming difficult…for both of them.

"Why do you think I wrapped that case so quickly? I wanted to come home to you."

He ignored the butterflies that swarmed at her words. "Exactly how did you resolve that so fast?"

"Most of my cases clear pretty quickly. Besides, I can be very persuasive, you know."

Oh, he knew. "I hope you used your powers of persuasion for good?"

"Of course. I only reserve my wicked ways for you." She proceeded to show him just how wonderfully wicked her ways could be.

All too soon, they became aware the limo had stopped. They looked at each other, crestfallen, for a moment, before Blair began gathering her things.

"Where are my panties? Bass, if you've stolen them again…." Her eyes narrowed.

"So now I'm the top suspect in The Case of the Purloined Panties? What are you going to do? Take me upstairs, tie me to your bed and interrogate me?"

She tried to ignore that he made the offer sound very intriguing.

"I thought all was forgiven when I sent you that matching lingerie set from Agent Provacateur?"

She had loved his gift, but was not about to be derailed. "You have sticky fingers, Bass, just admit it."

"The better to stick to you, my dear. Like here," he brushed a hand over the swell of one breast, his fingers teasing the sensitive nipple that rose to meet his touch. "Here...," the other hand squeezed her knee before making a slow and steady descent up her thigh. "And lastly, here," his fingers tangled through her curls, parting the outer and inner folds of skin and delving into her liquid heat.

She gave a little cry that was half gasp, half breath and all bliss.

"I don't want to say goodnight, Blair."

"Then don't," she breathed.

"Are you inviting me up to your boudoir, Miss Waldorf?" He could hardly believe it.

"No," the reply was stronger this time. "I'm summoning you."

"A summons from my queen? How can I resist that?"

He reached for the door handle, when her hand stopped him. "You can't come inside with me. Walk me to the door, kiss me goodnight and then make it look like you are leaving."

His face crinkled in concentration. "Then how am I supposed to get inside the building and past your doorman?"

She shrugged and gave him a naughty wink. "You got a multi-million dollar necklace out of the Met, so this shouldn't pose an insurmountable challenge. Unless you don't think you can handle it?"

He opened the door and then came around to her side of the car, opening it and taking her arm. They walked the short distance to her building's main door and paused.

He kissed the back of one hand.

Then the other.

"Make it a believable goodnight kiss," she said under her breath.

She didn't have to tell him twice. He swept Blair into his arms and his kiss was passionate…and lingering. Just when she'd forgotten she wanted it to be brief, when she'd just about forgotten her own name, he pulled away and whispered, "Goodnight, Blair."

"Goodnight," her words and her feet were unsteady.

She went up in the elevator as if on autopilot and then poured her favorite Dom into two crystal flutes and waited.

And waited.

Fifteen minutes passed before she could detect the whoosh of the elevator doors.

Her heart was pounding and there was a feeling in her chest not dissimilar to the effervescent bubbling of the sparkling wine in her glass.

"Challenge accepted and mission accomplished," he announced.

"Well done," she handed him a champagne flute with a smile. "What shall we drink to?"

"3 words, 8 letters," he raised his glass.

"You and me," she echoed, and the flutes clinked together.

They took a sip.

"A nice vintage, but I have something more intoxicating in mind." Chuck swept her into his arms and carried her down the hall. "Upstairs?"

She nodded, perfectly at home in his arms as they went up into the darkness.

* * *

"You must be Dorota." The dark-haired man in her, er, the Waldorf's kitchen was wrapped in Blair's roomiest velvet robe, sporting tousled locks and the merest shadow of facial hair.

At worst, he should've looked ridiculous. He should've at least appeared embarrassed.

But, no, he was simply curious.

"Are those macarons?" he gestured to the Laduree box in Dorota's shaking hands. "Blair's favorites. May I take some to her?"

His ordinary demeanor further rattled the maid. "State name and business right now or I call police!"

"I'm sorry, we haven't been introduced yet. I'm-."

Just then there was a rustling at the door to the kitchen. "Chuck, what is taking so long? I thought you only came downstairs for some juice."

It was Blair as Dorota had never seen her: Dressed in a rather rumpled men's button-down shirt that hung to mid-thigh and with similarly tousled curls rioting over her shoulders and lips swollen from a night devoted to kissing…and no doubt other things Dorota didn't want to dwell on.

"Miss Blair!" She had never been more shocked.

Blair, like Chuck, seemed unaffected. She didn't so much as blush. "Oh, good morning, Dorota. I wasn't expecting you so early. As you can see, we have a guest this morning. Dorota, this is Charles Bass. Chuck, this is my Dorota."

"We were just getting acquainted -," Chuck started to explain.

"Are those macarons?" Blair demanded, taking the box from Dorota's hand. "I'm famished. Could you get us some coffee, please? Mr. Bass and I both have work this morning."

Dorota made a noncommittal noise somewhere between a snort and an assent, but she went off to do Blair's bidding. When she returned, she was horrified to find Blair sitting in Mr. Bass's lap and feeding him one of the French treats. Although her mistress quickly scampered back to her own chair, the damage had been done, in Dorota's eyes at least. She did not know who this man was who was making her charge behave so…unBlairlike, but she would need to find out. She gave him a healthy dose of side eye before going back to the kitchen.

A half hour later, Mr. Bass peeked into the pantry. "Dorota, thank you for a lovely breakfast."

Another noncommittal noise. At least he was freshly showered and dressed in his street clothes again. She had to admit he did clean up well.

"I think we got started on the wrong foot this morning."

"Of course not, Mr. Bass." The reply was demure…and a total fabrication.

"Call me by first name, please."

"Mr. Charles," she amended.

"Chuck, please." He was most insistent.

"Mr. Chuck then," she finally agreed.

"I did not mean to startle you with my presence in your kitchen this morning."

She started to shake her head.

"And I know I did. I also hope my presence did not offend you in any way. You take great care of Blair and I know she has tremendous respect and affection for you."

He was charming her; she knew it but couldn't seem to resist. She then reminded herself what was at stake here. "I not want to see Miss Blair hurt again. If someone do that," she looked pointedly at Chuck, "he find himself at bottom of East River. I feel it better to be honest."

The direct approach. He liked that too. "Agreed." He held out a hand to her. "So can we start over?"

She took his hand and shook it.

"As Bogart said, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Dorota."

* * *

Blair looked down at the files spread across her desk. Financial reports, real estate holdings, call logs, surveillance reports—and absolutely none of them gave her a clue where Chuck Bass was hiding that necklace. It was only mid-morning, but she was already ready to tear her hair out and scream with frustration.

Somewhere under the piles of paper, her phone began playing Sarah Bareilles' "King of Anything." Speak of the devil….

She riffled through what must surely be a whole forest of paper until she emerged with the phone in hand.

"Blair Waldorf." Was she breathless from the paper chase or merely from the caller's identity?

"Good morning, beautiful. What are you doing next Tuesday night?"

"What's next Tuesday?"

"An awards dinner I'm attending, hopefully with you."

"You know I'd love to go with you…."

Great, this was just the reaction he'd been hoping for.

"But you also know that I can't."

Silence.

She got up and headed for a conference room so she could continue their discussion without being overheard.

"Chuck, we've been over this before," she sighed.

"Exactly."

"Then you know why I can't go with you."

He really, really didn't.

Of course she'd turned down his invitation to the gala. But that was before…

Before she'd met up with him at said gala, cut in on Jenny, and danced with him until they'd gone back to his place for a more horizontal form of dance.

Before she'd gone flying with him and then gone away with him to the island.

Before they'd agreed that this was more than an investigation; it was 3 words/8 letters.

Before she'd invited him into her penthouse, into her bedroom.

Before she'd introduced him to her Dorota.

He thought things were different now.

"I thought -."

She cut him off. "That's just it: you didn't think."

He was going to ignore that remark. He tried to swallow his impatience.

"Chuck, my livelihood and possibly my liberty is riding on this. I don't want to go to jail for aiding and abetting a criminal."

"Aiding and abetting? Is that what we're calling it now? I didn't hear you calling it that when you were bedding this criminal last night." He used sarcasm to mask the fact that her words stung and cut deep.

"That's not fair," she said quietly. "You know this is about more than just our…physical attraction. It's about you and me."

How dare she cut him to pieces and then pour those three words into the wounds. He took a deep breath and tried another tactic. "Would it change anything if you knew the dinner was for me because I'm receiving the International Business Award?"

"For the merger?" She brightened at that. "Oh, Chuck, this is so well deserved. I wish with all my heart I could go with you. But there will be reporters, paparazzi there. You must understand -."

"No, it's you who doesn't understand. When I said you were the first woman I'd brought to the island, it wasn't just the island. You were the first I brought back to my townhouse. You are the first I'm inviting to one of these events as my date. I break all my rules for you…and you aren't even willing to be seen with me."

"You know that's not true. It's just all the exposure of a night like that…."

"Don't say anything else. Just…think about it…and call me if you change your mind."

He ended the call before she could protest.

* * *

The morning dragged by even though he worked through lunch. It appeared the afternoon would go the same way, until his executive secretary buzzed his private line.

"Mr. Bass, a Miss Waldorf is here to see you."

Finally! "Thank you, Betsy. Please send her in."

She was dressed for business, all the way down to her Prada attache case, when she sat down across the desk from him.

"I have a business proposal for you and I thought you might be more comfortable on your home turf." She looked around the room. "It's a very nice office."

"Well, I do spend a good portion of my time here."

She nodded. "I'm going to tell you how to save this office, your empire, and your freedom and mine."

He cockily raised an eyebrow and grinned. "I was not aware they were in any danger."

"This is a business presentation," she scolded. "Please take it seriously; I do." She then went on to outline exactly what Chuck had accomplished with his business since his father's death and review his major holdings. "So when I say your business award is well deserved, I do know of what I speak."

He could not argue with that. Her knowledge of his business was impressive. He'd be hard pressed to find someone better informed about his assets, even among his highest ranking vice presidents.

"And let's not forget your stepmother, Lily. I know your business acumen has benefitted her as well."

Again, he could not argue.

"Ultimately, while I feel fairly confident we could both pull off orange jumpsuits, I'm sure neither of us wants to wear them and live in a cage for the next ten years." She was pleading with her eyes. "Also, I am tired of dissecting your tax returns. By the way, you have an excellent accounting team."

He looked the other way.

"Chuck, what do you need this necklace for? You certainly won't be wearing it. You can't display it. You've proven your point and tested your security system. Shouldn't we be at endgame now?"

"What do you suggest I do, Investigator Waldorf?"

"Just give me necklace, and this will all be over."

That was partly what he feared. Would Blair still be around after the case was closed? She'd given him reason to hope that she would…but then she'd turned him down for the award dinner. Who knew how would she deal with their relationship when she was being called away on cases all around the world?

Plus, there was another consideration. "You really think I could just hand it to you?"

"Why not? I'm not interested in an arrest or conviction, only a recovery."

"Maybe you're not…but what about Humphrey?"

"I'm not part of the police, Chuck."

"You are working with them, aren't you? So maybe it isn't entirely up to you. I think Humphrey would take great pleasure in slapping me into handcuffs."

It was Blair's turn to smirk. "Well, I would as well, but in a different context."

He inwardly groaned. How was he supposed to argue with that? "Can we please change the subject? I'm guessing your stance on my invitation is still the same."

She looked sad then, and he almost felt guilty.

"Look, I just thought it would be a nice evening out for us," he tried to explain.

She reached for his hands. "This doesn't change anything between us," she assured him. "And I promise I'll find some way to make it up to you."

He tried to believe her, because he so wanted it to be true.

"Think about it," she urged.

* * *

It was past 7 and he was just finishing some paperwork when the security alarm went off on his phone. With a few keystrokes, he pulled up the array of security cameras at his home.

There was someone in his townhouse.

She was still standing in the foyer when a familiar, disembodied voice rang out over the speakers.

"Blair, what are you doing?"

She stepped closer to the lighting and the cameras. "Oh, hello, I'm Blair Waldorf from Constance Billard. I'm here to tutor Charles Bass."

The camera hummed slightly as it zoomed in on face and then traveled slowly down her body from head to toe.

Her hair was down and pulled back with a brightly colored headband. It appeared she still had her old school uniform, though the skirt looked to be shorter than regulation length. She was wearing cashmere over-the-knee socks with black patent Mary Jane heels.

"Are you available for a study session?"

She didn't have to ask twice. "I'll be there within the hour."

When he strolled in just under the allotted time frame, she didn't even ask how he'd procured a St. Jude's uniform and made it there so quickly. He was, after all, Chuck Bass.

"What are we studying tonight?"

"Greek mythology."

"Naked goddesses?" he gave his best teenage grin. "I could get on board with that."

"I'm sure you could." She rolled her eyes and gave his arm a playful slap.

"C'mon, let's go up to my room." He started up the stairs with Blair following close behind, clutching her book.

"Your room is nice." In character, she looked around as if seeing it for the first time.

Chuck sat down on the edge of the bed. "Come sit by me. I promise I won't bite…unless you want me to." The last words were said under his breath.

She took off her blazer and moved slowly towards the bed.

"Are you scared, Blair? You're in the bedroom of a boy who's a little older and has a reputation. Aren't you afraid I'll do something inappropriate?" He made it sound very inviting.

"I'm not scared of anything," she thrust her chin out. "And maybe I want you to try something. Maybe I want to see what the fuss is about."

Oh, he would show her. "Maybe you should start reading. I'll follow along."

She opened the mythology book to "Cupid & Psyche" and began telling the ancient story of the two lovers separated by lack of trust and the machinations of the gods, then finally reunited by the strength of their love (and a little help from some other gods).

It became increasingly difficult to concentrate when he placed a hand on her stockinged knee and let his fingers stroke the luxurious fabric. "Soft."

"It's cashmere," she explained.

"As I said, soft, but not as soft as this," his fingers moved up to the bare skin of her thighs.

She drew a shallow breath.

His fingers went higher still, under the hem of her plaid uniform skirt. "Your skin is exquisite, perfect."

She really couldn't breathe now. She let out a little cough and broke character. "So tell me, what exactly is it that makes men so enamored of the schoolgirl fantasy? Is it the short skirts? The air of the forbidden? If you'd actually seen me back in high school, you might not have even noticed me."

He laughed. "There is no chance that I could ever see you anywhere and have you escape my notice. You were the Queen of Constance; I'm sure there was a whole collection of suitors vying for your attention."

"And what would you have been doing?"

"Devoting my academic career to studying you and your seduction."

"You sound awfully confident," she observed. "Do you think it would have been so easy? I had a boyfriend, you know."

"Maybe, but did he make you feel like this?" His finger explored the hem of her panties, sliding under them, floating over the wetness that welcomed him, and finally swirling around the little nubbin that was the center of her pleasure.

Shaking hands grabbed his lapels and drew him closer. Their lips met as a sigh that was part agony, part ecstasy escaped her mouth.

"But to answer your question…." Heaven help him, he could hardly breathe himself. "The stockings and the short skirt give us an excellent view of your amazing legs, and make us wonder how it would feel if they were wrapped around us."

She leaned back on the bed, thighs splayed wide like a butterfly's wings, and pulled Chuck on top of her.

"Ultimately, and I can't speak for other men on this one, I just want to know what it would have been like to have been your first lover, to have been the first to make you sigh, to make you scream, to pleasure you until…"

Then she was kissing him again and unknotting his uniform tie, unbuttoning his shirt….

Slow down…they needed to slow down…or he was going to embarrass himself like the schoolboy he was pretending to be.

He raised her arms above her head and then began to kiss her slowly…lightly at first, then more deeply.

She made little sounds of bliss, against his lips, in his ear, and he savored every single one of them. There, that was better.

He took advantage of her distraction to slip a couple of the little pearl buttons from her pristine white blouse free. Then he settled into the crook of her neck, nuzzling the magical spot where the silky skin of her neck gave way to her shoulder.

"Mmm," she sighed and her lips curved into a satisfied smile.

A couple more buttons were loosed.

He kissed his way down her décolletage, until he was over her heart. Chuck could feel it beating, for him, for them.

Blair was looking up at him with such a look of faith and trust that he forgot everything that was against them. At this moment, he believed only in them.

She sat halfway up and, never taking her eyes from his, pulled out the hem of her blouse and unfastened the remaining buttons. Then she slowly pulled the lace-trimmed camisole over her head and was bare to his gaze.

He could not stop staring. Would he ever get over the feeling of awe he felt every time he looked at her?

"Let's get you out of that skirt." He reached for the side zipper and Blair couldn't decide which sound was sexier: that bedroom voice or the whisper soft descent of the zipper's slider. She wriggled her hips as he pulled the skirt down and out of their way.

Then he did a double-take. Just when he thought he couldn't want her any more…there she was in a pair of skimpy red lace panties that hugged her hips.

His mouth went dry.

"Um, is that what you were hiding under that prim skirt back then?" He really had to know.

"Not this particular pair." She gave him a blinding smile. "But I've always liked having a little secret like this. It makes me feel sexy…and powerful," she confessed.

"You're wearing power panties?" He couldn't hide his smirk.

"Hopefully not for too much longer." She looked at him meaningfully and reached for his belt.

For a second, he experienced a flash of worry. Had they broken character? Shouldn't she have been shy this first time? But of course she wasn't; they'd never been awkward or hesitant with each other. It didn't matter if they were coming together as teenagers or a decade later.

Her fingers wrapped around him, stroked him. Her mouth kissed him, tasted him. They were immersed in each other.

When the moment came that their bodies physically joined, it was an affirmation of what their hearts and minds had been doing all along. It occurred to Chuck that perhaps it wasn't a matter of either of them teaching the other. Perhaps it was making discoveries together.

He reached up and removed the headband from her hair and cast it aside. They were completely bare to each other.

After, when they were lying half-asleep, Chuck asked, "What happened to Cupid and Psyche?"

Blair yawned and snuggled closer. "The gods intervened on their behalf and allowed them to be together. They had a daughter, Voluptas, sometimes translated as Pleasure."

"Hmm." He thought it fitting.

* * *

In the days following 'the tutoring session,' Chuck and Blair had never felt closer or happier. Yet as the awards dinner loomed, their joy began to ebb.

Blair seemed firmly committed to not attending the dinner and Chuck told himself that he did not care. Trouble was, he did and he was embarrassed by this seemingly unreasonable need to want her there. For her part, Blair couldn't stand the question that was in his eyes whenever the dinner was mentioned. It felt like she was constantly rejecting his invitation and, by extension, the man himself; neither of which she wanted to do.

So the level of tension and discomfort grew.

It all came to a head early in the afternoon on the day of the dinner.

As was his habit now, Chuck picked up his phone and dialed Blair. He could hear it ringing and feel the hope rising in his chest, the hope that she'd finally say yes and accompany him tonight.

But it wasn't going to happen, neither her picking up nor changing her mind. And he was Chuck Bass. He didn't need to beg a woman for a date. There were countless women he could call.

But he didn't want any other woman in the world; he wanted Blair.

No, what he really wanted was this whole ordeal to be over. He ended the call without leaving a message.

When Blair phoned back a few minutes later, he did not pick up.

* * *

The event was black tie, and who wore that better than Chuck Bass?

To the casual observer, he hadn't a care in the world, dressed to the nines, surrounded by his stepmother and stepsister, feted by the business community.

When he came to the dais to give his acceptance speech, the applause was thunderous. He had just started speaking-and his speech was sure to be the trademark Bass blend of wit and charm—when he saw her.

He could hardly miss her. She was in a floor-length, red silk gown with draping skirts, a tight bodice and little cap sleeves accentuated with sequins and embroidery designed to look like flowers. Her dark curls were styled half up, half down and her lips were outlined crimson.

The feeling of relief and outright joy at seeing her was so strong he felt like he'd been struck by something. Before he could stop it, his eyes settled on her appreciatively and a smile spread across his face.

And that was when he saw the man standing behind Blair, the man with his arm around her waist.

Blair had relented and come to his award dinner…with a date.

To Be Continued in Chapter 11

* * *

Author's Note:

Blair brought a date?! Who could that be? And how will Chuck respond?

Special thanks to my reviewers: ChuckBlair8, Almaloney33 (her comments have inspired any water/swimming/drowning metaphors in this story), Klarobass, Shark22, Kananox, mercury1893, purplebowties, pianogirl1, vale1103, Trosev and ChloeCharles (so glad you found my story and were so kind in responding). I apologize for being behind, but I will be responding to your reviews soon.

Happy Belated Birthday to the lovely purplebowties! Hope you are still celebrating your wonderful self.

Chrys1130, it goes without saying that I love and appreciate you.

Readers, do you have predictions or hopes for the next chapter? Talk to me!

Until next time,

Xoxo


	11. Chapter 11

_Last time in the Bassverse: Chuck felt that he and Blair were growing closer after he spent the night at her place and was introduced to Dorota. When he invited her to a special dinner where he would receive the International Business Award, however, Blair turned him down flat. He kept trying to change her mind, and she finally decided to go…with someone else._

Chuck delivered the acceptance speech for his International Business Award on autopilot. The chilling numbness that had descended on him upon seeing Blair there with another man left him seemingly unaffected.

Of course he appeared cool under pressure; he was Chuck Bass.

But inwardly he seethed.

He'd thought the most damage Blair could do was refusing to be his date. And he'd been wrong: it was a thousand times worse to see that she had rejected him but accepted someone else.

His eyes flickered over the new guy. Late 20s. Tall, with a rangy, athletic body. Dark blond hair slicked back. His eyebrows were dark and dramatic and a bit overwide, but they brought attention to the vivid blue of his eyes and contrasted with the symmetry of his facial features. The grey suit was well tailored if not fashion forward. The distracted expression on his face indicated that he posed no competition for Einstein.

Great, Blair was dating an underwear model.

In fact, he looked familiar to Chuck somehow….

Unlike her escort, Blair was hanging on Chuck's every word. She laughed at his witticisms, gave him encouraging smiles and applauded with abandon at the conclusion of his remarks.

And every laugh, every smile, every clap made him that much more furious.

When an impromptu line formed to congratulate Chuck, there she was, with the mindless mannequin in tow. There was a lengthy wait, so Chuck set about charming his 'fans' while taking random glances at Blair and her date.

A blonde gave Chuck her phone number. Blair's smile faded a bit.

A brunette gave him her hotel key. Blair frowned.

A well-endowed redhead leaned over and 'accidentally' gave Chuck an excellent view of her assets. Blair's eyes narrowed and her mouth compressed in a firm line.

It appeared that being an award recipient was a powerful aphrodisiac. Chuck just smiled wider, even though this made him angriest of all. Blair had started this by turning him down and bringing her own date; she had no right to complain if other women did want to be with him.

And he was going to tell her so when she got to the front of line. He was going to show her just as how much he did not care about her date and whatever underwear he was modeling. He would…

And then there she was in front of him, slipping her hand into his to shake and smiling up at him.

The butterflies swarmed and there was a buzzing in his head and his stomach. He took her hand, kissed it and said, "Good evening," in his most seductive voice. The best laid plans…had just gone out the window.

"Oh, Chuck, congratulations on your award. I'm so proud of you. I want you to meet -." Her final words were obscured by a loud bray of laughter from the raucous redhead who'd been flirting with Chuck earlier and had evidently found new prey.

"I don't need to meet your date." The silk in his voice had turned to cold steel.

She frowned, confused. "He's not my date…," she tried to explain.

"Nice to finally meet you, man. Congratulations." Underwear Model thrust out his hand to Chuck.

Chuck simply stared at it for a second.

"Chuck, this is Nate…Nathaniel Archibald." Surely he had to know who Nate was from the dossier.

Recognition dawned. Nathaniel. Her first love, her first lover, now her best friend's husband. Chuck extended his own hand and the two shook.

"I'm not here as her date," Nate echoed Blair's claim. "I'm here because she begged me to take her so she could see you get your award," he grinned, then groaned as a glaring Blair jabbed him in the ribs. "I'm actually a very happily married man."

"Nate!" A heavily pregnant Cinderella came rushing into the ballroom and up to their party.

"Ah, here's my lovely wife now." A wide smile spread across his face, before a concerned look overshadowed it. "Serena, I thought you were supposed to be lying down this evening. We agreed you would rest."

The blonde blushed. "I know, but we always come to this event together, Natie. When I saw you and Blair all dressed up to go, I just couldn't stay home."

"Where's Cassie?" Blair asked. "She's their daughter. She's two," she explained to Chuck as an aside.

"She's with Nate's mother. I thought I was never going to get here." She seemed to notice Chuck for the first time and held out her hand. "You must be Blair's friend. I'm so sorry I missed you receiving your award."

He took her outstretched hand. "Thank you, Mrs. Archibald."

"Please, call me Serena. Any friend of Blair's is a friend of mine." She laughed and it sounded like a little girl's giggle.

"I am indeed fortunate to call Blair my friend," Chuck smiled at Blair.

"Perhaps more than a friend," Serena suggested coyly, "judging by the way you two are looking at each other?"

"Serena!" Blair scolded, forcing herself to look away from Chuck.

"Uh-oh, I'm in trouble," her friend sing-songed. "Nate, take me to the dance floor and save me from the wrath of Blair."

"Careful, she got me in the ribs earlier," Nate warned.

"Well, she'd have to find mine first," Serena ran a protective hand over her ample baby bump and she and her husband wandered off to share a slow dance.

Now it was just Blair and Chuck.

"So those are your friends?"

"Mm-hmm." Blair couldn't subdue her proud smile.

Chuck cut to the chase. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I had made up my mind that I wasn't."

"What changed it?"

"This is important to you. If it's important to you, it's important to me. 3 words, 8 letters."

"I'm glad you came, though I didn't particularly like seeing you on Archibald's arm." That was the understatement of the decade.

"I didn't particularly like seeing Jenny on yours," she reminded him. "Besides, my arm is free now."

"Then maybe I should take it and we should have a dance. Would a dance be permissible?"

"One dance wouldn't hurt." She linked her arm with his.

"Mr. Bass, Mr. Bass!" The excitable photographer for the event needed Chuck for some official photos.

"Will you excuse me?"

"Perhaps the lady…?"

Blair was being invited to join in the photos, but she shook her head.

Chuck understood, but he couldn't help but press his luck a bit further. "Just one? Just for us?"

He was looking at her again, and she couldn't resist. "Just for us," she relented.

He told the photographer to snap one of them together, not to be published, and the woman complied, somewhat sad that she would not be able to share what she was sure would be an excellent shot of such an attractive couple against the romantic backdrop of the ballroom.

After a couple of photos with the awards committee, Chuck was free for his dance with Blair. Finally, for the first time that evening, everything felt right.

At least it did until Blair whispered in his ear: "Chuck, you need to go dance with Serena."

"What? Our dance isn't over yet. Besides," he looked over at Serena and Nate dancing and giggling over some private joke, "she looks perfectly happy with her dance partner, as I am with mine." His arms tightened around her waist.

Blair's eyes fluttered closed and she sighed. "Chuck, you know I would love to dance with you all night. And hold your hand. And be your date." She took a breath and steeled herself for her next words. "But that can't happen until the case is resolved."

Chuck didn't say anything. He merely let her go and went to dance with Serena.

Nate immediately came over to be her partner, but Blair felt uncomfortable. Had he always been this tall? And why did she feel cold now? She looked over at Chuck with Serena. He was smiling at something she'd said.

Blair saw red…and green. How dare Serena stand there making him smile at her? She was probably casting her Serena spell on him. No man could resist that. Blair had thought her powers might be dimmed by not being able to see her feet, but apparently not. Of all the men her best friend could effortlessly enchant, why did it have to be Chuck? Without thinking, she glared.

As if he could feel her eyes, Chuck looked back…and the Basstard winked at her.

She couldn't control it. She couldn't control her eyes lighting up. She couldn't control her lips curving into a little smile. Worst of all, she couldn't control the fluttery feeling that started in her stomach and seemed to go all through her.

Nate said something that Blair couldn't quite make out. She returned her eyes to her own partner. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I said," Nate repeated patiently, "that you really like this guy, don't you?"

Blair's anger came back in a surge. "What if I do? What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing." He gave her an indulgent grin. "It's just nice to see you happy for once."

"You act like I've never been happy before."

"Have you really? Deep down?"

Blair didn't say anything.

"You know, they say that someone will eventually come along who will make you see why it didn't work with anyone else."

Blair rolled her eyes and looked away. "Get out of my head, Archibald!"

"Hey, I'll be happy to go back and dance with my wife. Bass is over there trying to charm her."

Blair laughed at that. "Poor Nate, are you feeling outBassed?"

They looked over at the other couple just in time to see Serena cry out and double over in pain. Nate and Blair were at her side in an instant.

"I—I think I need to go to the hospital now," Serena announced. "I think I may be having our baby tonight," she turned worried eyes to Nate.

"Serena, you can't be! The baby's not due for another three weeks."

Serena winced.

"I don't think the baby cares about your timetable, Nate," Blair interjected. "Serena, did you take your town car?"

The blonde shook her head. "I was in a hurry. I just hailed a cab."

Chuck already had his phone. "I'll call Arthur to bring the limo around."

Blair and Serena beamed at him gratefully.

"Are you sure, man? I don't want to leave you stranded; this is your award dinner."

"It's fine. I'll come with you. Serena, do you feel you can make it to the door?"

"I'll help her." Nate put an arm around his wife.

"I'll take her other arm." Despite the incongruity of the situation, Chuck managed to make it look like he was escorting a debutante to her debut.

"I'll get your award." There was really nothing else for Blair to do.

Cameras started clicking as the quartet exited the building.

"Oh, great," Nate muttered, "This will be all over the eleven o'clock news."

"Please, your grandfather will love it. It's good press," Blair pointed out.

"True," he sighed.

"Nate's grandfather expects him to run for Congress in a couple of years," she explained to Chuck.

After a bit of maneuvering, they managed to get Serena into the back seat of the limo.

"I can't believe this is happening." Nate was still in shock.

"I can't believe you left her alone tonight," Chuck scolded. "What if she'd gone into labor in the cab on the way here, by herself?"

"I didn't want to!" Nate tried to defend myself. "But Blair just had to see you get your award. Have you ever tried saying no to her?"

"Point taken." Chuck had to concede the argument to Nate. "Can I get you some water, Serena?" He was already reaching into the mini-fridge.

"Seriously, thanks for all your help." Nate was grateful. "We'll have to go out for drinks or have you over for dinner."

"It was my pleasure," Chuck said automatically.

"I'm sure there must be more pleasurable things Mr. Bass, er, Chuck could be doing right now," Serena said between sips of water.

Chuck's eyes met Blair's and held. "Believe me, right now I'm exactly where I want to be."

The limo pulled up to the curb at Lenox Hill Hospital. Nate leaped out to get an orderly with a wheelchair for Serena, who was busy thanking Chuck again for the use of his limo.

"It is a sacred space," he admitted with a glance at Blair, "but I'm glad to be of service." He and Blair remained in the limo while Serena was transported to the admissions area.

When they entered the admissions waiting area a few minutes later, they were shocked to see Serena doubled over in pain and Nate practically pulling his hair out in frustration.

"What's going on?" Blair demanded.

"Apparently it's a very busy night for babies, because there are currently no available beds in the maternity ward and we don't know when one will free up. In the meantime, her contractions are getting worse."

As if on cue, Serena cried out in pain.

"Well, I'll call Arthur and we'll go to another hospital." Chuck was nothing if not practical.

"No!" Serena protested. "I was born here. So was Blair. Beyonce gave birth here." She said it as if that explained everything.

Chuck resisted the urge to smile. "I'll go talk to someone. Excuse me."

Within minutes, he was back, along with an orderly to push Serena to a private room.

Blair raised her eyebrows at Chuck. "What did you do?"

"Funded a new floor of birthing suites and a lab for it. It won't help today, but in the future…."

"Chuck, you didn't have to do that." She squeezed his arm.

He shrugged. "It's all taken care of now. Do you want to go home?"

She shook her head. "I want to be sure the baby's delivered safely first, but you can go." She flashed him a concerned look. "I know you're not comfortable here."

He was startled. He thought he'd kept it well hidden. "How…?"

"I know you, Bass. I could you feel tensing up on the ride over here, and right now your jaw is so tight…." She reached up to caress the jawline in question.

He sighed. "My mother…." He didn't even know how to explain.

But he didn't have to.

"I know," she said softly. His mother had died giving birth and his father had died in the hospital following a car accident. "So I understand. I'll be fine, really."

"I want to stay."

God, he could be stubborn. "Why? You only met Serena and Nate tonight."

"True, but they are important to you. And what's important to you is important to me," he echoed her words from earlier in the evening.

She just looked up at him with those enormous eyes. "Thank you."

"We should get comfortable; we may be here a while." He sat on a small sofa and made room for her.

Blair shivered a bit as she settled in against him.

"Are you cold?" He took off his tuxedo jacket and wrapped it around her. "Better?"

"Mm hmm." The warmth of the garment surrounded her. It smelled like him: fine quality fabric and his own natural musk. She found it reassuring. Her eyelids drifted closed.

Chuck could feel her becoming relaxed and drowsy in his arms. He pulled her closer. He should just let her fall asleep, but a burning question demanded to be answered: "Blair, how are you doing with this? I know plenty of women are friends with their exes, but to see another woman, your best friend even, living the life you once pictured…?"

She was wide awake then. "The keyword in that sentence is 'once,' Chuck. A long time ago. It was always a better dream than a reality. I was never truly happy with Nate, and he wasn't with me. I'm glad he could recognize that and admit it. I was so stubbornly clinging to my fairy tale fantasy, I don't know that I could've been smart enough to let him go otherwise."

"He was a fool to let you go."

"You've seen Serena."

"My opinion remains unchanged, charming though Mrs. Archibald may be."

She smiled then and gave him a light kiss.

"I'm glad I'm not upstairs having Nate's baby or in a palace in Monaco. Because then I wouldn't be here right now with you."

The kiss was deeper this time.

"Blair," he rested his forehead against hers, "I'm not going to let you go."

"No?" She opened her eyes and searched his face.

"Not for all the naked goddesses in Greek mythology."

* * *

"Mr. Bass? Miss Waldorf? The Archibalds are asking for you."

They came awake with a start, separating entwined fingers and uncurling from each other.

"Has the baby been born?" Blair had to know.

"Yes, miss."

"Boy or girl?" She turned to Chuck and confided, "They didn't want to find out early this time. They did with Cassie, and Nate's grandfather was very disappointed she wasn't a boy."

"I'm not allowed to say, miss." The hospital staffer was a stickler for protocol. "But you can go up and see the child yourself."

Even after being in labor for most of the night, Serena still looked radiant as she held the baby up for Blair to take in her arms.

"Meet our son, Christopher Fitzwilliam Archibald," she announced proudly.

"Topher for short," a frazzled looking Nate added.

Blair beamed down at the baby in her arms. "Hello, Topher. I'm your Auntie Blair." She held the swaddled baby up for Chuck to see. "And this is Chuck Bass."

Blair had not exaggerated: Nate and Serena did indeed make blond, beautiful babies. But Chuck couldn't take his eyes off the blissful expression on Blair's face as she cuddled and cooed at the baby before handing him back to his father.

A nurse came in to check on Serena and the baby, indicating that Chuck and Blair's visit should end.

"It feels like we ought to go smoke a cigar in celebration, but that just feels wrong at…," Chuck looked at his watch, "4:37 a.m. We'll have to save that for a later date." He shook Nate's hand and nodded to Serena before he and Blair took their leave.

* * *

Blair collapsed into the rear seat of the limo. "What a night!"

"An apt description. Thank you again for coming to the dinner."

"I'd wanted to go since you first asked me. I hated saying no. I knew it was important to you."

"Yes, but you don't fully understand why…and I want to show you. I want to take you to my first business venture. I want you to see it."

"Victrola?"

"Yes, have you ever been there?"

"I haven't had the pleasure."

"I hope you'll find it a pleasure. It's meant to be an escape, a place to be free. Will you escape with me?"

"Of course."

* * *

Chuck sent the limo for Blair the following evening, but to her surprise, he wasn't in it.

Blair pressed a button and the partition rolled down. "Arthur, where is Chuck?"

"Mr. Charles said he'd meet you at Victrola, Ms. Waldorf."

"I see. Thank you." The partition went back up.

She was even more surprised when they pulled up to the club on the Lower East Side and it appeared deserted.

Chuck met her on the sidewalk.

"What's going on?"

"We're closed temporarily for renovations, but I wanted you to see it while it still looks like it did back then."

"Refresh my memory, how old were you when you got the club?"

"I was sixteen when I pitched it to my father."

Most kids were just beginning to drive while Chuck was pursuing his dreams of an empire. Naturally.

"So pitch it to me. Impress me, Bass."

"I imagine that, like my father, you would be a tough critic."

"Only one way to find out."

He took her arm and led her inside the club.

"Imagine we're both sixteen," Chuck suggested. "What would you say to me about the place?"

She looked around the dim lobby. "I'd probably make some crack about a strip joint being very Midtown."

"And I'd have to school you on the finer points of a burlesque establishment, how it's meant to be a classy escape."

"I'd probably be here to escape," Blair mused.

"Escape? From your perfect boyfriend?"

"Who has always dreamt about my best friend. Maybe we'd broken up that night."

"And you came straight to me."

"Well, we're friends, right? But maybe Nate is your friend too? Your best friend?"

"Wouldn't stop me. I'd tell you he was an idiot for letting you go."

They walked into the main bar area.

"It's got atmosphere," she observed, looking around at the dimmed lighting, the vintage wallpaper and the lush draperies.

They moved up towards the front of the bar and took their seats next to the stage on an old-fashioned sofa in the VIP area. A small table in front of them had a bucket filled with champagne and two glasses.

Chuck did the honors. "We're supposed to be celebrating that my father said yes. I was never more surprised. Of course he didn't say yes at first. I had to wait for him to change his mind, but I knew it was a winning plan." He handed Blair a glass, then took one for himself.

Their glasses clinked in a toast.

"What changed his mind?"

"Oh, not any special faith in me. Actually, it was my stepmother. She thought it was good to see me interested in a…," his lips twisted in a wry smile, "legitimate pursuit and that I should be given a chance."

"And look at you fourteen years later, winning awards for your business acumen." She raised her glass again.

"I was just so grateful to be given a chance. I was obsessed with this club when it opened. It gave me some necessary focus."

"You're the most focused man I know. I wish your father were here to see it."

"He probably still wouldn't believe it."

There was an awkward silence before he returned to their roleplay.

"You know, as a good friend, I'd have to ask you if you want to talk about the breakup."

"I'd say I felt relieved."

"Did you?"

"Eventually." She took another sip of champagne. "I'd want a distraction. What music is playing? What's going on, on the stage?"

"Something sultry and jazzy is playing, just like now. There was a line of dancers dressed in vintage costumes then. They have moves."

"Hey, I have moves too!"

"There's my little green-eyed monster," he grinned. "I'd be intrigued by this claim of moves from you. I'd tell you to go up there and show me."

"I'd backpedal then."

"I'd dare you. I'd say you're ten times hotter than anyone on the stage."

"You think I'd believe that?!" she scoffed.

"You should; it's true."

"I'd secretly be pleased by the compliment," she admitted in a whisper.

"Well, it's not getting you onstage, so I'll try something else. I'll say I knew you wouldn't do it."

"I can't let you say that. I'd have to prove you wrong. I'd tell you to guard my drink." She sat her champagne flute down and headed for the stage.

And then she danced for him.

First, she removed the pins from her upswept hair.

Then she began to sway in time with the music, never taking her eyes from his, even as she lowered the side zipper on her flapper-style dress. She shimmied out of the dress, wriggling her hips and letting the fringed skirt slide down her legs like a waterfall.

She stepped out of the dress and then there she was, standing on stage in front him, stripped down to a silky little slip.

And she danced for him. True, the bar was empty, but it could've been a full house and they still would've still felt like the only people in the room.

He was completely captivated.

He got to his feet.

He raised his glass in a silent toast to her.

Because she was more than beautiful, more than sexy. She was…amazing.

When she came off the stage, they did not speak. It wasn't until they were in the limo and had pulled away from the curb that she ventured a soft, "Thanks for the lift home."

He turned his head her way. "You were…amazing up there."

"Really? That's all you've got?" She rolled her eyes. "No lines, no witticisms from the great Chuck Bass?"

"I'm under your spell; I can speak only the truth."

She scooted her way across the leather seat, until her face was level with his.

And then she gave him a kiss…that was eagerly returned.

The kiss was brief, but a game changer nonetheless.

"Are you sure?"

"Aren't you making a lot of assumptions from one little kiss? Maybe it's just a kiss?"

"It's you and me—how could it just be one kiss? Besides, I'm not asking how far you want to go. I'm acknowledging that this will change everything and asking if you're prepared for that."

"Who could truly be prepared for that?!"

There were too many questions, but not enough answers. So again he repeated: "Are you sure?"

She answered with a kiss this time. It was deep and sweet. Hungry and pliant. Carnal and innocent. Sinful and sacred.

It was everything.

Because she was everything.

He realized it wasn't about wanting to be Blair's first. What he really wanted was to be her last, the love of her life.

Because she was the love of his life.

He froze as the unbidden thought flashed through his mind.

For a moment, he stopped and stared at her in awe.

He didn't even bother trying to deny it. There was no denying it: he was in love with Blair Waldorf.

Suddenly, it all made sense. There was a name for this crazy cocktail of emotions she elicited from him.

Those doe eyes staring back at him fluttered closed and her lips closed around his full lower one, drawing it into her mouth, teasing it with her tongue and coaxing his own tongue out to play.

Those three words—the ones he hadn't said yet—threatened to spill out. He had no control.

Somehow, in between his stealing a kiss on the sidewalk in front of her building on their first date and now, Blair Waldorf had found and stolen what no one else (least of all himself) believed he had: his heart.

It was the greatest heist of all time.

To Be Continued in Chapter 12

* * *

Author's Note:

My apologies this update is a few days late. I broke a tooth and will need a root canal. I'm not looking forward to it. Anyway, mouth pain is not exactly conducive to writing.

Was your guess about Blair's mystery date correct? I hope you were pleased by the reveal.

Beyonce did indeed give birth at Lenox Hill. So did Sarah Jessica Parker. It's a UES thing. Although I don't specify it, I would imagine Chuck and Nate were born there as well.

The NJBC: Well, I got the band back together! Or, in this universe, together for the first time. You can't have a GG universe without the NJBC. True story.

I hope you enjoyed the limo roleplay scene. I wanted to do a new twist on that—and what is more twisty than the discovery that our Chuck is in love. I suspect we are all less shocked than he is about it.

The term "mindless mannequin" was shamelessly stolen from Shrk22 to replace my "dumb jock." She thought Chuck would say/think something more biting, and I had to agree.

Special thanks to my loyal reader-reviewers: Chrys1130, Almaloney33, pianogirl1, vale1103, Kananox, purplebowties, DirekFrancis (I have missed you!), ChuckBlair8 and Klarobass.

To all my readers, thanks for coming on this crazy journey with me and I would love to hear from you.

Xoxo


	12. Chapter 12

_Last time in the Bassverse: Blair arrived late to Chuck's award dinner with a mystery date, who turned out to be Nate. The drama amped up when Serena unexpectedly showed up—and promptly went into labor. Chuck volunteered the limo and our fearsome foursome were back together (for the first time). Chuck took Blair to Victrola and, on the limo ride home, discovered he was in love with her._

Those three words—the other three words—were right there on his tongue, though said organ was a bit preoccupied with worshipping her lips, her neck, her décolletage….

Chuck paused and looked at Blair, searching to see if he could see it in her face too.

Her lips were parted and color bloomed on her cheeks. But her eyes-those amazing eyes-were equal parts heat and awe…and something else he didn't dare name.

If he'd thought that acknowledging he was in love with her would help him manage the emotion, he was completely wrong.

He felt…more.

More protective.

More tender.

More enthralled.

More addicted.

He couldn't get enough of her. His hand wrapped around her thigh in a possessive caress that pulled her onto his lap.

Her arms came around his shoulders, entangling in his hair and pulling him closer.

All the while, his lips never left hers, kissing her deeply, then lightly, breathing little endearments against her lips.

She answered back with sighs and purrs, cries of bliss that grew stronger. She removed his bow tie and tossed it to the carpeted floor to join her dress.

His fingers slid under the thin straps of her silk chemise, coaxing them off her shoulders and sliding them down her arms.

She fell back into the buttery softness of the leather seat, pulling him with her, and suddenly they were on fire with urgency.

He threw off his jacket with one quick, fluid motion and then neither would settle for less than skin on skin.

It was frantic and powerful.

Her welcoming body and whispered "Please" were all the invitation he needed.

And then he was inside her…and the shock of their joining left both breathless from this power they had over each other, this overwhelming pleasure they could inspire….

But it was more than that. So much more. Tonight, of all nights, this was about more than chemistry; it was about this sacred connection.

It was about love.

Maybe he didn't know how to say it. Maybe he didn't know if she felt it too. But he could make her feel well loved.

He poured that love into every stroke, every touch, every kiss, every whispered word they exchanged.

He could feel her response in every sound she made, every breath she took and the way her body tightened around his like she would never let him go.

When he felt the waves of ecstasy go through her whole body, when she looked up at him with awe, he followed her into bliss.

The collapsed into each other like two stars that had collided and were lost in a cloud of stardust.

For a while, they simply held onto each other and tried to breathe.

Blair was the first to speak and the words came out hoarse and breathy. "You were right. When you said we should've met when we were younger."

"I'm glad we didn't," was his unexpected reply.

She was shocked. "Why?"

He sat up and pulled her back into his lap. "Because I was a mess in high school. I was angry…about so many things. You wouldn't have wanted to be my friend, much less anything more."

She started to argue, and he raised a hand in protest.

"It's true. And even by some miracle you hadn't been able to resist my charms," he sounded dubious, "I couldn't have handled it. I would have hurt you, and that's the last thing I would ever want." He kissed her forehead.

She looked down at their entwined fingers. "I don't care." She said it again, stronger this time. "I don't care about what came before, for either of us. It all led to this: 3 words, 8 letters. You and me."

He picked up one of her hands and brought it to his lips, if only to stop another 3 words, 8 letters from leaving his mouth. "Then don't let this evening be over. Come home with me tonight."

It was a very seductive offer. "Chuck, you know I want to say yes…."

"Then say yes." He was still holding her hands and doing that thing where he ducked his head and looked up at her with those mesmerizing eyes. It gave her an excellent view of that sensual lower lip that seemed to have perfected the pout.

Ugh. She would be strong.

Then he kissed her lips, her neck, her collar bone, her bare shoulders.

She gritted her teeth and steeled herself against the onslaught.

He moved to her ear, using that wicked tongue to sweep across her ear lobe and draw it into his mouth. Then he whispered more naughty things he would do to her with his tongue.

Blair cracked. "That's cheating!" she protested.

"Well, I don't have to do any of that if you don't want me to." How could he sound so innocent after having made her such an indecent proposal?

"Take me home, Bass, but you're going to have to smuggle me back in the morning."

"My pleasure."

"Oh, it will be," she assured, attacking his lips again. "And mine, because I'll be holding you to every promise you just made me about tonight."

"You can hold me to it. I can be very responsible."

"Speaking of, exactly how did you go from being that angry teenager to the business leader who just won an award last night?"

"I told you that starting Victrola helped. It took all my focus in the beginning, because I really had no idea what I was doing. My father put up some money; the rest came from my trust fund from my mother. I had a year to make it work."

"Didn't your father give you any other help? Any advice or consultation?"

Chuck shook his head.

"But he owned hotels and restaurants. Surely he could have provided some assistance?"

"I was on my own. It was like he wanted me to fail, but I wasn't going to let that happen." There was steel in Chuck's voice. "I was ready to open a second club within the year. Things went well for a couple of years, then my father died and I had to take over Bass Industries."

"Which you turned into an empire. Your father wouldn't recognize his company now." Blair couldn't keep the pride out of her voice.

Chuck squeezed her hand. "I haven't been a saint, though. I've made mistakes. I went into therapy," he confessed, looking over at her to guage her reaction. "I still see my therapist."

"I still see mine," she confided. "For help with my eating disorder. I went back after I came home from Monaco. We're damaged people, Chuck."

"Maybe separately. Together, we make sense."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I do. Blair, you've been the lightest thing that ever came into my life. I don't want to lose that."

"I don't want to lose what we have either. That's why we have to get this necklace issue solved. I don't want to have to hide anymore. I want us to be free to be together. Don't you want that too?" Blair held her breath waiting for the answer.

"Of course I do. It's just…complicated," he sighed.

"It doesn't have to be. All you have to do is trust me, let me help you."

He deliberately avoided her eyes. "I have some things to work out."

"It'simple, really." Her hands cupped his jaw and forced him to look at her. "Can you trust me? Are you ready to do that?"

He hesitated, wanting to say yes, wanting to tell her he loved her more than life itself….

"Think about it," she suggested. "In the meantime, let's not lose what we have right this minute."

"And what is that?"

"Tonight."

And just like that, they were once more wrapped up in each other and the night.

* * *

Blair frowned down at the Bass files on her desk at the precinct office. Thus far, they had offered up no answers as to where _The Empress_ might be, and neither had Chuck. She had so hoped to convince him to trust her, to confide in her, to put an end to this coil.

But he'd been silent last night and through their early breakfast together this morning.

She took a sip from the travel mug of vanilla peppermint tea and let herself be lost in the memory of Chuck bringing it to her in bed that morning while she was wrapped in his silk robe.

Humphrey strolled in and dropped a newspaper on the pile of papers in front of her.

"Good morning to you too, Humphrey. What's this?"

"Check out the society page," he suggested.

Blair unfolded the paper and leafed through a few pages….then there it was: A large, fairly high quality photo of Nate, Serena, Chuck and Blair leaving the awards dinner.

"They're referring to your little clique as The Fab Four or The Breakfast Club."

She scoffed. "Please, we'd be a completely Non-Judging Breakfast Club. None of us has any room to judge."

"It looks like you're on a double date," he observed.

"In case you hadn't noticed, my best friend was in labor and we were getting her to the hospital."

"You were seen leaving the hospital early the next morning."

"What are you implying? Yes, we spent the night in the maternity waiting room, a _public place_."

"Blair, have you made any more progress on finding that necklace?"

"Not as of yet," she admitted.

"Well, I don't think you're going to."

"What? Why?" Blair was shocked and offended.

"I think you've lost perspective on this case. You're too close to be objective. In fact, you arrived here this morning in our suspect's limo."

"Are you spying on me?" She was horrified.

"I have eyes, and I happened to be looking out the window when you arrived."

"I have not, for one second, stopped investigating this case. I've been through his files, his financials…repeatedly. I've searched his townhouse with you." _And without you_ , she added silently. "Have you forgotten that I'm the one who suggested him as a suspect?"

"That was before you met him, before you fell in love with him."

All color drained out of Blair's face and then she laughed. "You're crazy. I am not in love with him."

"What would you call it then?"

She remained stubbornly silent.

"You went away with him. You've been inseparable ever since. You're introducing him into your circle of friends…."

"It's called keeping a close eye on your opponent. You're a detective; you should know this."

"By keeping your lips on him? Face it, Blair, you have feelings for this guy."

"I may have feelings for him," she relented, "but that doesn't mean I'm in love with him."

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

"Look, I'm not a little girl here. I've had boyfriends. I've been married. I think I would know if I were in love with Chuck Bass."

"Fine, call it what you want. But how long do you think this not-in-love relationship will last?"

"What are you getting at?"

"Chuck Bass does not do girlfriends. I know you said that girl at the gala was his sister, but if that guy had any more sisters he'd be a medieval nunnery."

"Jenny is his stepsister!"

"I'm just saying that I've seen his files too. Do you think he's ever going to be happy with one woman for any length of time? He's never had a girlfriend or a long-term relationship, just an endless parade of women."

Blair was tired of listening. "Are you finished? I have a necklace to find."

"I can give you a clue where you won't find it: his office."

"What makes you say that?"

"We searched it this morning."

"Why wasn't I informed?" She was not amused.

"It was discussed and the general consensus was that keeping mum meant there was no chance Bass would be forewarned."

"Forewarned? Are you serious? I want that necklace found more than anyone!" The color was high in her cheeks.

The detective simply crossed his arms and looked at her.

"Well, did you find anything?" Blair almost held her breath waiting for his answer.

"Why don't you ask your boyfriend?" He turned on his heel and went back to his office.

* * *

Blair sneaked a call to Chuck to find out what had happened, but the call went straight to voicemail. Then she tried unsuccessfully to concentrate on the files in front of her. She finally gave up, packed up her papers and went shopping to clear her mind.

She had just found a lovely navy silk robe with tiny white polka dots at Turnbull & Asser for Chuck when her phone rang.

It was her mother, who wanted to meet up while she was home from Paris. Thinking it couldn't possibly be more awkward than her meeting this morning with Dan, Blair accepted.

They agreed to meet at Laduree in Soho for a late lunch. Her mother was already there, seated in the garden and perusing a menu, when Blair walked in.

Eleanor Waldorf's gaze flickered over her daughter. "You look different."

Blair immediately bristled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you look happy. Should I attribute that to Charles Bass?"

"How do you know about him?"

"Darling, everyone knows about him, but in this instance, I read about it on the society page of the Times."

Blair began leafing through the menu. "Well, I'm waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"Your disapproval."

"Blair, he does have a reputation. Has since he was a boy."

"He's not a boy anymore," Blair retorted. "He's a brilliant businessman. He collects fine art. He's intelligent -."

Eleanor raised a hand and tried not to smile. "I'm sure he's very charming and interesting."

He was so much more than that. It infuriated Blair that people couldn't see it.

A server came and took their order. When he left, Blair was still looking irritated.

"I didn't mean to upset you. I just don't want to see you get hurt." Eleanor didn't add "again," but then she didn't need to.

"I know what I'm doing, Mother."

"I'm sure you do, Blair, but love can make people do foolish things."

"Love? Why does everyone think I'm in love with him?!" she demanded. "I've been in love before and this feels nothing like any of them did."

"Maybe there's a reason for that. Blair, when Nate left you for Serena, was it really your heart that was hurt, or was it your pride? Weren't you a little bit relieved? Nathaniel was never your intellectual equal."

Blair looked away.

"And your college boyfriend? Do you even recall much about him?"

Blair shrugged.

"And Louis…wasn't that more about the fairy tale than the man himself? It broke my heart to see the state you were in when you left him. I thought you had sworn off men since then."

"I thought I had too," Blair mumbled under her breath.

"So how did you and Charles meet? He was a few years ahead of you at school, wasn't he?"

"He's a…work connection. And yes, he graduated St. Jude's the year before started at Constance."

"And how long has this been going on?"

 _Since I met him._ "Not long."

"Just one question and then I won't pester you anymore. Are you happy?"

There was no hesitation. "He's made me happier than I've ever been." Oh, dear God, _was_ she in love with him?

Before she could consider the question, her mother was asking about Nate and Serena's new baby and the conversation was non-stop through the rest of their luncheon.

* * *

When Chuck Bass slid into the limo at the end of his long day, it only took a second to realize he was not alone.

"Blair!"

"Chuck, thank God you're here. It feels like I've been waiting forever," she huffed.

He wasted no time pulling her close for a passionate kiss.

"If this is a new feature of my car service, I very much like it," he murmured against her lips.

"Stop!" she barked, scrubbing her lips with the back of her hand. "I am not here to service you."

"Well, then, may I service you?" He was already on his knees with his hands halfway up her skirt when she slapped them away.

"No, there will be no servicing! We need to have a serious discussion." She primly pulled down her skirt.

"What's on your mind?" To Chuck's credit, he sat back in the seat and prepared to listen.

"Are you aware they searched your office this morning?"

"I could hardly miss it when I arrived this morning and a group of guys in very cheap suits were directing my secretary to open the safe."

"I didn't know this was happening. I can't even believe Humphrey got a warrant."

"I'm sure he called every judge in town before he found one who'd agree, but my secretary called my lawyer and Cyrus said it was all aboveboard. He supervised the whole thing."

"Did they…?" She was almost afraid to ask.

"Find anything? Seeing as how I'm still a free man, no. Having been repeatedly strip-searched by you, I don't think the NYPD poses a threat."

She was so relieved tears sprang to her eyes.

"Hey, what's this?" He wiped a tear away with his thumb. "Everything is fine."

"No, it isn't, Chuck. You know it isn't. Let me help you. We can get that necklace returned and be free of all this."

"What do you want for dinner?" Just like that, he was changing the subject.

"We have to talk about this."

"And we will. Just…not tonight. Can we forget about all this and just be you and me this evening?"

She sighed. "3 words, 8 letters. But will you please consider my help?"

His only response was a brief nod. "What do you think about Thai food?"

She surrendered…for now. "I could go for some chicken satay," she admitted.

* * *

Ninety minutes later, they were comfortably ensconced in Chuck's overstuffed leather sofa, with the remains of their Thai takeout buffet on the coffee table before them.

"I couldn't eat another bite." Blair sank back against Chuck.

"Not after that coconut ice cream we just shared," he agreed.

"It was the perfect ending to our meal."

"Maybe not. I have a gift for you." He started to pull a box from his inner suit pocket.

Her eyes lit up and a little smile crossed her face. "It's not my birthday."

"That's in November, but I didn't want to wait that long to give you this." He held out the gift in question.

It was a large square jewelry box, the kind that might be used to hold a necklace.

Was it… could it be? Her heart was pounding, racing, but she sat frozen, unable to move.

"Open it." He smiled encouragingly.

She still hesitated for a second more. If _The Empress_ was in that box….this changed everything. It meant that he trusted her, that he was letting her in…and she wanted that with every fiber of her being.

It was still in his hands and he gently pried the box open…

Slowly…

Slowly…

There on the maroon velvet backing lay a dazzling array of diamonds set in blossoms and dew drops of white gold, punctuated with a central filigree heart. It was the Erickson-Beamon necklace.

A loud gasp escaped Blair's mouth as mix of emotions shot though her body.

"Oh, my God, Chuck, what have you done?" Her voice was equal parts shock, horror and anger.

The smile on Chuck's face fell.

"I thought you would be pleased…."

"Pleased?! We already had one stolen necklace to deal with; now we have two!"

"Blair, I assure you, I am completely entitled to give you this necklace."

"Thank God they haven't called me to investigate this one," she muttered under her breath.

"Why are you so angry? I thought you loved this necklace when you saw it at the museum?"

"I do love this necklace—how could I not? But I love -," she broke off on the last words.

She could not say the words, even though she was now thoroughly convinced they were true.

"Blair," he set the jewelry box aside and took her hands, "what were you going to say?"

How had this happened to her? How had it taken her so completely by surprise? Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

"Blair, please," he would beg if he had to, "please tell me how that sentence ends. I want to hear it from your lips." He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him, before tracing the outline of her lips with the tip of his finger.

So in the face of rejection and a possible felony conviction, in spite of her cynicism and hard won life experience, she looked him in the eye and with absolute certainty, she took the ultimate leap of faith:

"But I love you more."

To Be Continued in Chapter 13

* * *

Author's Note:

What an evil way to end this chapter. I am evil, aren't I?

You know who else is evil? Chuck and Blair! I had no intention of an ILY in this story, but oops, they did it again. They keep interrupting my writing with other plans they have as well. What's a girl to do?

Special thanks to my beloved reviewers: Kananox, vale1103, ChuckBlair8, Trosev, pianogirl1, purplebowties, Shrk22, Klarobass (very fitting that you were Review #100), and ChloeCharles.

Readers, I love hearing from you. Any theories on what will happen now that Blair has said those three little words?

Stay tuned!

Xoxo

P.S. Thanks for all the good thoughts regarding my root canal last week. Everything went very well and it's nice to be out of pain.


	13. Chapter 13

_Last time in the Bassverse: Chuck was struggling with the aftermath of realizing he was in love with Blair. Blair fended off ridiculous accusations from Dan and her mother that she was in love with Chuck—until she realized they weren't so ridiculous after all. Chuck gave Blair the Erickson-Beamon necklace and she was so overwhelmed she accidentally let those magical 3 words/8 letters slip out. Oops!_

"You seem restless today," Dr. Isabelle Cerra commented.

It was an understatement. Chuck Bass was like a caged animal…in bespoke tailoring and all the trappings of civilization.

"Congratulations on your International Business Award. I see Miss Waldorf attended the presentation. At our last session, you said you were going to find out how she feels."

"Oh, I found out alright," he ground out the words.

The doctor waited for him to continue. The pause grew lengthy and uncomfortable.

Finally, he spoke. "Night before last, she told me she loved me, and I haven't seen or heard from her since." His voice was cold and casual. He might have been describing a bad day at the office.

Isabelle bit back her shock. She had thought things were going well with the couple. "There must be more to it than that," she spoke without thinking.

He shrugged and did not meet her eyes.

She continued to wait. "Charles?" she prodded.

Silence.

Dr. Cerra sighed in frustration. "Charles, you may go. If you're not going to be honest with me, why are we even meeting? I'll tell my receptionist to only bill you for a half-visit today."

"Are you…dismissing me?" He was incredulous.

"Frankly, yes. I can't help you if you won't talk to me."

"What exactly do you want to know?" He was wary.

"Start with what happened night before last and tell me everything."

* * *

 _Night Before Last_

"But I love you more." Blair's words may have been softly spoken, but they were said with certainty and without hesitation.

Chuck's ears were ringing and it sounded like the words were coming from far away. Had she really said those other, magical 3 words/8 letters?

"Say it again," he urged.

Suddenly, the spell was broken. Self-conscious, she let go of his hands and turned away. She should never have said it. It was too much, too soon…

"I'm sorry, I -," Blair fumbled for some excuse she could give for laying her heart bare at his feet, but she came up empty. She couldn't deny it, nor did she want to.

"Don't be sorry," he her face in his hands and angled it back to his. "Say it again."

He was looking at her intently, and she under the spell of those eyes, that voice….

"I love you more." The words came out at his bidding.

She was standing there with the words on her lips, her heart in her eyes. His brave, beautiful goddess…

Chuck felt overwhelmed by his emotions.

He was stunned.

Elated.

Impatient to hear the words again.

Maybe if she said them one more time he could believe it was real.

"Say it again." He would beg if he had to.

"Why?" 1 word/3 letters.

It terrified him.

And compelled him.

"Because I'm in love with you, Blair Waldorf."

Her eyes widened. Her lips parted. And suddenly it was the most natural thing in the world that he be kissing her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids, the pulse that was thundering in that silky neck…

"Say it again," Blair panted out the words.

"I…," he kissed his way down that magical column of skin.

"Love..." Then he was making a trail of kisses across her shoulder. She sighed and her head lolled to the side to give him better access.

"You." He traced the outline of her collar bone with his lips and tongue.

If she could've frozen time at that particular moment, she would have gladly done so.

"That necklace would look so good right here," he mapped the path his mouth had made over her sensitized flesh with his fingertip. "Will you put it on for me?"

"Chuck -." Blair looked conflicted.

"Just for tonight?" he whispered in her ear.

How could she say no? "For tonight," she agreed.

"Turn around." He was whispering in her ear again. She had no power to refuse him anything when he did that. Thank God he wasn't asking about them going on some cross-country Bonnie-and-Clyde-style crime spree.

He led her over to a pier glass mirror in the foyer. "Let's get this on you." He took the necklace out of the case and with graceful hands, he placed it around her neck. Elegant fingers gently fastened the clasp and then reverently adjusted the diamond drops and the central heart pendant.

"Something this beautiful…, their eyes met in the mirror, "deserves to be seen on someone worthy of its beauty." Her fingers came up to curl around his and hold.

The diamonds picked up and reflected back the low lighting in the hall, making them seem to glow from within. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she said in awe.

"That's what I thought the first time I saw you."

She wanted to thank him…for the evening, for the compliment, for the gift of the necklace. Except she couldn't. It wasn't his to give, nor hers to accept. But just for tonight…

She looked back over her shoulder at him. "I love you, Chuck. So much it consumes me."

"You consume me." It was true, she'd taken over his heart, his mind, his life…. "I love you, Blair. I can't imagine the day I won't."

They were holding each other tightly, and kissing like mad.

"I want to see you wearing that necklace and nothing else," the words were murmured against her lips, "in my bed."

The little sound she made might have been surrender or a cry of victory. "Then take me upstairs, Bass."

He scooped her up in his arms and headed for the stairs.

* * *

Chuck wanted to say that things were exactly the same between them in bed as they always had been, but it would've been a lie.

They were even better.

Every kiss, every touch, every whispered word meant that much more.

And when they were naked with each other, when his body was entwined and buried in hers, when they were as close as they could physically be…

Blair opened her eyes and looked up at him, heart and soul shining through, and told him she loved him.

He had never felt so free nor so bound. "I love you." Every thrust was punctuated with another declaration.

She kept answering with declarations of her own, until he was unsure if either of them was actually saying or hearing it…maybe it was simply pulsing through their veins, their entire beings.

They wanted more, more of each other. Placing little kisses across her shoulders, he varied his thrusts—slower, faster, deeper…whatever she wanted. He devoted himself entirely to her pleasure. Her body rose to meet his, again and again, and her nails sunk into his back, as if claiming him for her own.

It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Their bodies tightened around one another and when the rhythm of their coupling sent the first shockwaves of bliss through her body, he felt every single one of them and followed her into ecstasy.

And then Chuck Bass, who had heretofore not believed in falling in love, making love or spiritual experiences, knew without question that he had just experienced all three, courtesy of Blair Waldorf.

* * *

 _Present Day_

"And then what happened?"

Dr. Cerra's question brought Chuck back to the moment at hand.

"We…celebrated. The rest of the night. Well, I celebrated. I have no idea what was going through her head, because when I woke up, she was gone."

"What was your first thought when you opened your eyes?" Dr. Cerra wasn't sure if he would answer the question or not.

"My first thought was that I'd skip work that day and we'd go rowing in Central Park. Or whatever she wanted to do." _Maybe not leave the bed._ "I didn't realize at first that she was really gone. I thought maybe she was showering or was downstairs in the kitchen…. I didn't believe she was really gone. She left me a gift. A navy silk robe from Turnbull & Asser." The corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

"Sounds like something you'd like," Dr. Cerra observed.

"It was perfect." He was talking about more than the robe. "You see, I still couldn't quite believe she was gone—I'm that much of a fool. I thought maybe she'd been called into work. So I called her. It went straight to voicemail and she never responded."

"You called her? Just the one time? Maybe she didn't receive the message."

"More than the one time," he admitted.

"How much more?"

"Thirty-one times."

 _Oh, dear._

She switched topics. "You say you feel foolish. Why?"

"Where do I start?" he snorted.

"Because you gave her a very expensive and elaborate gift?"

"No, that necklace belongs to her. It should belong to someone worthy of its beauty." He had omitted the detail that Blair suspected the necklace was stolen.

"What did you feel when Blair told you she loved you?"

"That I was the luckiest man on earth."

"You didn't doubt her feelings then?"

He shook his head. _When your best dream comes true, you don't want to second-guess it._ "I believed it so much that I foolishly told her I loved her too. I have never done that."

"Never told a woman you love her?"

"Never told anyone."

"Even your stepmother?"

"Not in so many words, but Lily knows."

 _My goodness, Blair had certainly drawn him out of his shell, hadn't she?_

"Did you realize you loved her before you said it?"

"Yes, but I was waiting…"

"Waiting for…?"

"The right time to say it, the right way. Then she said it…and I knew."

They were both silent for a moment.

"I'm just so angry," he ground the words out.

"Do you regret saying it back to her?" Isabelle ventured gently.

"No, it was the truest thing I ever said. It felt right to say it. But it meant less than nothing to her. I told Blair we had all the time in the world…and she left anyway, she left without saying goodbye."

"And that's why you're angry," Dr. Cerra concluded.

Chuck said nothing.

"Just to recap, you gave Blair an amazing, museum-quality necklace. She told you she loved you. You told her you loved her. You spent a wonderful night together. But you think it didn't mean anything to her -."

"I know it didn't."

"Why?"

"Because if it had meant to her what it did to me, then we'd still upstairs in that room."

"Maybe it didn't mean as much, or maybe it meant more…."

"More?" he scoffed. "How can you say that?!"

"Charles, no one made her say she loved you. No one made her spend the night. No one made her bring a gift that you yourself said is perfect for you. I'd say the evidence indicates that she cares for you a great deal."

"No one made her leave either," he argued.

"This relationship between the two of you has progressed rather quickly, hasn't it?"

He neither nodded nor shook his head, but she clearly had his attention.

"To the point where's it almost overwhelming at times, isn't it?" She paused but did not wait for his answer. "Maybe she felt overwhelmed."

"What if I feel overwhelmed too? I've broken all my rules for her," he started to protest.

"Maybe she feels she's doing the same for you," the doctor suggested.

He wanted to believe that, he really did.

"It seems to me that the Charles Bass I know would not let someone get away without answers."

"I tried -."

"Charles, did they give you a big fancy award for giving up easily?"

He closed his mouth.

"Then I expect you to go out there and either get answers or get your girl. Do you understand?"

What could he do but nod?

* * *

Blair Waldorf frowned at the screen of her cell phone and the green characters that read _Chuck Bass, 78 missed calls._

 _God, why did this have to be so hard?_ It had taken every ounce of her strength to get out of that bed, get dressed and leave his townhouse. She had ducked his calls, texts and emails, studiously avoiding him for the next 48 hours.

Then all contact mysteriously ceased. This only confirmed what she'd already suspected: he'd forgotten her already.

Finally! She should have felt relief. In this case, 'relief' felt like an ache in her chest that had spread through her whole body.

The worst part of all was that her feelings for him had not diminished one iota. If anything, she only loved him more, though how that could be she had no idea.

Twenty-four more hours passed. Once again, her phone blew up with calls, text alerts and emails. They all said the same thing: "Talk to me."

She gritted her teeth.

Of course she wanted to talk to him.

More than anything, she wanted to talk to him.

She was not going to talk to him.

Then the messages started arriving at the precinct. Her desk was now littered with messages from Robin Locksley, Alex Mundy, Daniel Ocean, Johnny Robie and Tom Crown. All were attached to various land lines, cell phones and office numbers for one Charles Bass.

She could admit that his use of pseudonyms of famous film thieves was clever and amusing. She was not about to admit that she was actually happy he was in contact once more.

Nor would she see him when he showed up at the Waldorf penthouse bearing flowers. She stayed upstairs fuming while Chuck shamelessly tried to charm Dorota…and then fuming even more when he finally gave up and left.

She was still fuming while going over his files for the umpteenth time. She had lost her perspective on this investigation? Hah! She had certainly not. Well, she could concede that perhaps she had a little. It was hard to stay focused on anything when Chuck Bass had his lips on your lips…your neck…your décolletage…. It was suddenly very warm in the room. She sent Dorota for some chilled Perrier.

She had downed half the goblet when the idea came to her. Perhaps she had been looking at things from the wrong perspective. Perhaps what was needed was a more hand-on approach. (She tried not to think of Chuck's hands on her.) She had gotten nothing from data and raw facts. Maybe observing the beast, er, Bass in his native habitat—from a safe distance, of course—would yield some clues in closing her case.

It was time to spy.

The following morning she was ready to put her plan into action.

Beret? Check.

Ballet flats? Check.

Binoculars? Check.

Tasteful black Dior ensemble? Check. After all, nobody did black like Dior.

Then she set herself about following Mr. Charles Bass. He went to the office, to a business luncheon, for a jog in the park, to check on the renovations at Victrola, for an evening drive in the limo. Her heart froze during that drive. What if he met up with another woman? How could she bear it?

Her phone rang and startled, she jumped. When the familiar name came up on the screen, her inclination to pick up was almost overwhelming. It was torture, having him within sight but being unable to touch him, talk to him. She let the call go to voicemail before eagerly replaying it.

Blair was vaguely disappointed that he was merely calling to wish her goodnight, not to confess where _The Empress_ was or to say those 3 words/8 letters she was denying she wanted to hear. When her cab followed the limo back to his townhouse, she waited outside until his bedroom light went off before hailing another cab and heading for home.

She had spent the entire day studying Chuck's movements and had learned precisely nothing. It had only made her miss him more. But tomorrow was a new opportunity….

The following day was a carbon copy of the one before it, even down to the goodnight call.

The day after seemed to be headed for more of the same…

Until she lost him in the early evening.

She screamed, she swore, she berated her cab driver. "How does one lose a shiny black stretch limousine in Manhattan traffic?"

"It was right there, miss. I don't know what happened." The cabbie began to wonder if he should beg for mercy.

"Keep looking. Go around the block here…." But no matter what they tried, the limo seemed to have vanished into thin air.

After a half hour of fruitless searching and an astronomical cab fare, Blair decided to give up. She realized she was in Nate and Serena's neighborhood and figured she'd stop in and see her new godson. That might cheer her up.

Nate himself answered her knock with a warm welcome, taking her coat and showing her into the living room.

"Where's that beautiful baby boy?" Blair was right; she did feel better already.

And then she saw who was sitting on their sofa.

Looking perfectly at home with a toddler on his lap playing with his tie was Chuck Bass, her arch nemesis and love of her live.

Blair's mouth dropped open in shock.

"Auntie Blair!" Cassie smiled proudly. "Cluck is here!" she announced.

"So I see." Blair managed to find her voice.

Chuck's smirk was just a little too smug and self-satisfied. Almost as if he had planned this….

"Cluck, Cluck, Cluck," Cassie chanted cheerily, still playing with his tie.

It was Blair's sentiment exactly. The Basstard had taken over her entire life. There was no corner he left untouched. Everywhere she turned, there was Cluck, er, Chuck.

Her eyes narrowed and her lips compressed in a firm line.

"Blair," he nodded. "Who are we spying on tonight?" he gestured to her all-black ensemble and accessories.

"Chuck," she replied evenly, dodging the question. Blair turned to Nate. "Where's Serena?"

"In the kitchen. She's making a salad. We're thinking of ordering takeout. I know, you and Chuck should stay for dinner with us!" Nate seemed inordinately proud of his 'brilliant' idea.

Chuck gave a gracious assent while Blair made some noncommittal noise and headed for the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

"Serena, what is _he_ doing here?" Blair hissed at her friend, who was chopping lettuce.

"Blair!" she squealed in true Serena fashion. "I think it's so sweet that you and Chuck both ended up here. It's like you read each other's minds."

"Hmm, sweet."

Serena completely missed her sarcastic tone.

"So…Chuck hanging out here…is that a recent development?"

"Oh, he and Nate are great friends now. He came over to smoke a celebratory cigar with Nate one night and things just kind of grew from there. I think Nate is happy to have a friend who's not a political connection or family member. He and Chuck went down to Atlantic City the other night. They had a great time and I had the house all to myself for an evening. I think they're planning on flying out to see the Lakers play soon."

Great, Chuck and Nate had bonded.

"Cassie seems very fond of him as well," Blair observed.

"Oh, yes, she adores Cluck, as she's been calling him. We really need to get her into speech therapy." Serena continued to chop up produce.

"If you're ordering out, why are you making salad?"

"Nate and I have been taking cooking classes together and we're currently on salads and appetizers," she confided.

"Somehow I can see you and Nate doing more kissing than cooking in the kitchen."

"Well, you know how it is," Serena laughed. "We're so happy you met Chuck and can finally be happy too."

Baby Topher let out wail from the next room.

"Ooh, that's my cue. Blair, can you take this into the dining room?" She handed the salad bowl to a bemused Blair.

Once the baby was settled back to sleep and the food delivery arrived, the group sat down to dinner and conversation flowed over the delicious Italian dishes. Everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves.

For Blair, however, it was torture.

Torture when they got up for dinner and Chuck placed his hand in the small of her back, so she could feel the warmth of his fingers through the fine fabric of her dress.

Agony when his hand accidentally brushed the side of her leg under the table and then not-so-accidentally squeezed her knee and slowly made its way up her thigh.

Cruel and unusual punishment when those fingers found the silky soft skin above the elastic band at the top of her stockings…and began tracing little circles on it, each edging ever closer to her….

"Would you care for some dessert?" Serena was playing the perfect hostess.

"No!" Blair snarled.

Nate and Serena stared in shock. Chuck merely grinned. Blair took advantage at the commotion to slap his hand away from her inner thigh.

"Ahem, I mean, no, thank you. Dinner was delicious and quite filling." Would this interminable meal ever be over?!

"Blair, are you alright?" Serena had to ask.

"Of course. I'm fine. Please don't worry. This is not about my eating disorder. I'm still seeing my therapist and I've been doing well."

Nate and Serena looked at Chuck and then at each other. So Chuck knew about…Blair's problem. The blonds seemed to be having one of those silent conversations that only married people do.

Cassie stifled a yawn.

"I think someone needs to go to sleep," Blair smiled at her goddaughter, secretly thankful for something to take the attention away from her and Chuck.

"I'll get her," Nate reached out to pick up his drowsy daughter.

"No!" Cassie wiggled and protested until Chuck promised he'd visit again soon and bring her a present. Then she was all sleepy smiles.

"I need to get going myself," Chuck confessed. "Blair, I'd be happy to give you a ride."

"I'm sure you would." The sarcasm was back. "But you probably have an early morning tomorrow. I wouldn't want to take you out of your way."

"You both live on the Upper East Side," Serena reminded her. "Please, Blair, I'd feel better if you went with Chuck."

"It's really no trouble at all," Chuck chimed in.

He was trouble, and Blair knew it, but somehow she found herself on his arm being led out into the night.

"Gee, why was I not surprised to find you with a giggly blonde in your lap tonight?"

"The brunette that this gentleman would have preferred was unavailable. I thought maybe the best way to find you was to lose you." He gave her a knowing look.

Blair was surprised into an honest response: "You knew I was following you?"

"From the moment you turned up outside my office three days ago."

Despite or maybe because of the unaccustomed ballet flats on her feet, Blair stumbled on an uneven square of cement in the sidewalk. She wobbled for a second before Chuck's arms came around her waist to steady her.

Blair's heart was racing and adrenaline flooded her veins. Chuck and his arms were the only sane, steady things in her world. His face was very near to hers. She could see the amber lights in his eyes and feel the warmth of his breath on her lips. Suddenly her heart was pounding for a very different reason.

She was suddenly aware that she was still encircled in his arms and there was nowhere on earth she'd rather be.

Did he kiss her first, or did she initiate that first light touch of their lips? It didn't matter, because they both dove into it with abandon, deepening the kiss and exploring each other at leisure.

Blair forgot the painful last few days' separation. She forgot the investigation. She forgot to breathe.

When they finally broke apart for a much needed breath, he whispered against her lips, "I've been waiting days to kiss you again. The wait has been…excruciating."

Before she could answer, Arthur pulled up to the curb with the limo.

Once inside, Chuck busied himself with the view outside his window. He did not look at Blair or attempt to hold her hand.

She should've been happy and relieved—and she might have been, had he not just kissed her senseless and said those sweet words to her.

She turned to face him. "I missed you too, Chuck."

It was a terrible, horrible mistake.

Because he slid across the seat until their faces were level with each other and there was nowhere to hide….

And he asked the question she both feared and dreaded: "Then why did you leave me, Blair?"

To Be Continued in Chapter 14

* * *

Author's Note:

What is Blair going to say, readers? Are more secrets about to be revealed? Stay tuned!

Special thanks to Chapter 12's reader-reviewers: pianogirl1, vale1103, Kananox, Almaloney33, purplebowties and Klarobass.

An extra hug to Chrys1130 and Shrk22 for discussing fic with me.

This chapter is dedicated to Klarobass. I couldn't ask for a more kind or loyal friend. Sending you comforting thoughts and strength at this difficult time.

Any thoughts on this chapter or the next, readers? I'd love to hear from you. My review box or PM is always open. Hope you are enjoying this last bit of summer.

Xoxo


	14. Chapter 14

_Last time in the Bassverse: Chuck gave Blair the Erickson Beamon necklace. She told him she loved him. He told her he loved her. They shared a wonderful night. But then she left him without a word. To keep tabs on her suspect (and her missing love), Blair began following Chuck. She lost him, only for them both to turn up at Nate and Serena's, where they shared dinner, a ride home and perhaps a reunion. Still, Chuck has questions that need answers._

"Then why did you leave me, Blair?" Chuck needed to know.

She ducked her head and turned away. She was not ready to deal with this now. She might never be.

"Talk to me. I've asked you a thousand times over the last few days. Don't you think I deserve an answer?"

He did; it was inarguable. Still, she hesitated.

"And please don't ask me to leave it alone, because you know I can't deny you anything…."

"That's a lie!" The hesitation was gone. "How many times have I asked you to trust me? To let me help with this necklace thing? But what do you do? You steal another necklace!"

"Trust you?! Why can't _you_ trust me? Don't you understand that maybe I want to take care of this myself? That I don't want to put you at risk? That I want to be able to come to you without any encumbrances? I wasn't expecting this to happen, you know."

"Do you think I expected to fall in love with you when I decided you were the prime suspect? I hadn't even met you yet."

"What if you had?" His tone was quieter this time, but it was a serious question and he wanted the answer.

"I would have stolen that necklace back, returned it, and saved us both a bunch of trouble!" She was still angry.

"You wouldn't want to not be in love with me?" He despised how vulnerable this question made him sound.

"Newsflash, Bass: I've always known you took that necklace and it didn't stop me from falling in love with you or even slow me down. Oh, I tried to run from it the other night. I've tried to fight it. But I can't…and I don't want to anymore."

His response was to take her face in his hands and slowly, reverently kiss her lips. Hope and happiness rose in his chest as she kissed him back with just as much dedication.

"But…."

He should've known this was too good to be true.

"There's no way I can win in this situation." Her tone was sad but resigned. "My job, my reputation, my future and even my freedom are all on the line here."

"You know I'll protect you. I'll do everything in my power to." He kissed her hands in turn.

She smiled then. "I know you'll try, but the keywords here are 'in your power.' It may be out of our hands."

"In case you've forgotten…I'm Chuck Bass."

"I could hardly forget that! But that's perhaps the scariest thing of all."

"Why?" She had lost him here.

"Because you've never been in a relationship. I'm just one woman, Chuck. What happens when you inevitably become bored with me?"

"I could never be bored with you. You're the only woman I need or want. Besides, you told me you would teach me about relationships. This retreat thing, though, was perhaps not very educational."

She sighed. "I'm afraid I can't teach you about love. It's recently been brought to my attention that I may have never actually been in love before, so I'm just as new at this as you are."

"I refuse to believe that there's anything you can't master." He pushed a lock of her hair back from her face. "I confess, though, the Blair Waldorf thing is a little intimidating."

Her nose wrinkled in confusion. "How so?"

"I don't have an old money past or a grand political future to offer you. I can't make you a princess or even give you a title. As you said, I do live very comfortably, but is that enough?"

"All I want is you."

"Then we are on the same page."

"I'm scared it's too much to ask," she confessed.

"Are there any other obstacles you can foresee?"

"Aren't those enough?" She was aiming for levity, before becoming serious once more. "Actually, there is one more, but I can't tell you about it right now. Will you just trust that I love you and I'm on your side?"

"Will you also trust that I love you and give me a little more time to deal with this necklace thing?"

"One word, 3 letters: yes." What else could she do?

"3 words/8 letters," he countered.

"Which ones?"

"All of them. You and me. I love you."

"Deal."

"Shall we seal it with a kiss?" He was doing that sexy whisper thing again.

"I feel like this needs to be properly consummated. I'm afraid I'm going to need more than a kiss."

He didn't need to be asked twice. "Arthur?" Chuck rolled down the partition. "Before we drop Miss Waldorf off, we'd like to go for a drive. A very long drive, please."

* * *

"He-Hello?" Blair was breathless when she pick up the phone.

"Blair? Is everything okay? You sound tense." Serena was playing the concerned best friend card.

"Well, I'm not. I'm just trying to get ready. Chuck is picking me up soon and I'm not satisfied with my outfit." Blair was clad in only a silk slip and it looked like a runway had exploded all over her bed.

"You have a date this morning? That's wonderful. I guess this settles the debate between Nate and me."

"Debate?"

"Nate felt there was some tension between you and Chuck at dinner last night, but I know for a fact that Chuck couldn't keep his hands off you."

"How do you know that?" Blair was neither confirming nor denying.

"Oh, please, you two didn't really think you were being subtle, did you?"

Blair rolled her eyes. "Serena, I really don't have time for this."

Serena sighed. She had rather been enjoying roasting her friend and was reluctant to stop. "Alright, but you have to tell me what you're up to today."

"We're going to brunch."

"That sounds lovely."

"At his stepmother's," she added quietly. Maybe too quietly.

"Ooh, 'Meet the Parent' time!" This was even better than she and Nate had thought. "Blair, is that why you're having trouble getting ready? Are you…nervous?" It was inconceivable.

"What?! Nooo," Blair scoffed. "Well, maybe a little."

"But—but you're Blair Waldorf. You don't get nervous; you make other people get nervous. You've been to political fundraisers…the Met Gala…. You know royal protocol, for goodness' sake."

"I know, it makes no sense. But Lily and Jenny are important to Chuck, so…."

"They're going to love you. You just need to relax. Isn't there something that would help you relax?"

"Chuck!" The word came out as a breathy sigh.

"Ack, too much information! Go finish getting ready and call me later with all the details about the brunch."

Blair ended the call and went back to surveying her wardrobe choices. If she was going to 'relax', she would need something with easy access…

That would seduce one Charles Bass…

But would allow her to present herself well to his family…

It was no small feat.

But she was Blair Waldorf.

When Chuck arrived a half hour later, Blair was ready to make her entrance. She paused midway down the stairs and Chuck, who'd been chatting with Dorota while he was waiting, looked up and took her in with his gaze…and promptly froze.

He stopped talking, stopped moving, possibly stopped breathing.

She was wearing a dress of conservative length, but that was the only conservative thing about it. It was sleeveless and one shoulder was bare, though her long straightened locks covered it. The dress itself was white with a bold geometric pattern of giant polka dots in shades of black, pewter and light grey. The bodice was tight-fitting and was cinched into a cummerbund-style belt in matching fabric. The full skirt flared out and floated down past her knees. Her legs were accentuated by nude silk stockings and shiny black patent Louboutins. Dangly silver earrings completed her accessories. Her makeup was light with a sheer, understated red lipstick highlighting those perfect lips.

She looked smart, chic and sexy, and he was ready to kiss every bit of that lipstick off her.

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a little smile. Mission accomplished.

They lasted exactly two minutes until the elevator doors slid closed behind them.

Then his arms came round her waist and pulled her close.

Her fingers slid over the dark grey superfine wool that perfectly showcased his shoulders before moving to his geometric print silk tie. She grasped it by the ends and pulled him even closer.

Their lips met and clung, tongues danced, and suddenly the whole place was on fire.

The heady feelings produced by the kiss combined with the movement of the elevator were making Blair dizzy. In an attempt to gain some control, she reached out and pushed the Emergency Stop button.

The car came to an immediate stop, as did Chuck's heart when Blair's fingers found the tab on his zipper and slowly, deliberately lowered it.

If he hadn't already been head over heels in love with her…

She was suspended in his arms, her hands grasping his shoulders and entangling in his hair. His lips were tracing trails down her neck and across that one bare, silken shoulder…

Then he was inside her, worshipping her body with slow, deep thrusts…

The butterflies he always inspired in her were floating higher, higher…

She felt as if she were flying…

Flying…

Soaring into the sun….

And Chuck was right there with her.

Now she was relaxed and sated.

Thank God for thigh-high stockings and full skirts.

By the time they made it downstairs and through a 20-minute traffic jam, Blair felt very relaxed indeed.

"I feel…so good."

"Yes, you do," he agreed without hesitation.

She ignored the double entendre.

"I love this dress. Can I just live under your skirts?" He was loath to leave.

"After we get through brunch," she promised, smoothing her skirt before reapplying her lipstick.

* * *

Blair Waldorf did not walk into Lily's apartment; she sailed in with a smile on her face and Chuck's hand gently supporting her back. They made a striking couple, a fact that was not lost on the three ladies who were awaiting them.

"You must be Blair," Lily already had a hand extended and was beaming.

Grandmama CeCe stared in frank curiosity at Charles' lady friend.

Jenny hung back a bit, but was equal parts warmth and fascination.

And Blair charmed them all.

She complimented Lily on her amazing brunch spread and kind hospitality.

She discussed French classical authors with CeCe.

And then she answered a myriad of fashion questions from Jenny after the ladies complimented Blair's ensemble.

Chuck just sat back and watched her work the room with perfect poise. Truly, he was proud.

A flawless, cool exterior…

Then she dipped a plump strawberry into a dollop of clotted cream before raising it to her lips and discreetly swiping her tongue over the treat while her eyes met his.

But, oh, the fire below!

She might not be perfect, but she was absolutely perfect for him.

His mouth went dry and he wondered if it would socially acceptable to throw her over his shoulder and carry her down to the limo.

Chuck was drawn out of his reverie by the ladies laughing at some witticism Blair had just shared.

She had them all, Chuck included, eating out of her hand.

By the time the meal concluded, Lily was making plans for a family dinner and inviting Blair.

CeCe had pronounced Blair 'enchanting.'

Jenny was thrilled when Blair promised she would show her mother some of Jenny's fashion sketches.

And Chuck Bass was more than content to be known as the man who had accompanied Blair Waldorf to Lily Bass's Sunday brunch.

* * *

It was late afternoon late day when Chuck and Blair strolled into the Waldorf penthouse. They were holding hands and laughing at some private joke.

Neither noticed the figure descending the stairs.

Until she spoke.

"Blair, there you are! Along with…." Eleanor Waldorf reached the bottom of the stairs and stood expectantly in front of the couple.

Blair recovered from the shock first. "Mother, this is Charles Bass."

Chuck immediately had his hand extended.

"And Chuck, this is my mother, Eleanor Waldorf."

Eleanor shook his hand briefly, all the while inspecting him from his carefully coiffed head down to his shiny shoes.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Chuck was at his most charming.

A lesser woman might have simpered and swooned. Eleanor simply continued her visual inspection. "I've heard a great deal about you, Mr. Bass," she said evenly.

Uh-oh. She was clearly talking about more than conversation with Blair.

"Please, call me Chuck. Mr. Bass was my father." He gave her a little smile.

"Ah, yes, your father. He was quite the bastard, wasn't he?"

"Mother!" Blair was well and truly shocked.

Chuck was not. "I would have to agree. You knew him then?"

"In passing," Eleanor admitted. "Would you two care to join me for tea?"

Blair started to make an excuse, only to be interrupted by Chuck. "We'd love to."

She shot a glance at him, as if to ask if he was sure, but he was already leading them into the living room.

Chuck's eyes flicked over the grand piano before he took a seat on the sofa. Blair noticed his interest but said nothing, sitting down beside him, crossing her legs demurely and then boldly taking his hand and interlacing their fingers.

Their linked hands rested on her leg, in full view of Eleanor, who took a seat on the backless settee, her back ramrod straight.

So…Blair was not ashamed of him. Maybe, Chuck considered the radical idea, she might even be proud of him. Suddenly it was very important that she always feel that way, that their relationship not be something to stay hidden. He wanted to walk down Fifth Avenue holding her hand in the afternoon sunshine. He wanted her in all the pictures from his business dinners. He wanted her to stay over at his home and never leave.

And until they got this damned necklace fiasco handled, none of those things could happen.

It was ironic. If he'd met her in high school, he'd probably be paralyzed with fear of the intensity of his feelings for her. And it was new…strange…terrifying. But it was nothing compared to the fear of losing her. Chuck could not, would not let that happen.

He had to figure out how to get that necklace back in a way that Blair would still maintain her reputation and keep her job and so that neither of them would be suspects. When he'd told Blair that he could stop the investigation with one well placed phone call, he had not been exaggerating. But that was before they had searched his home and office. He was too serious a suspect now to be able to call off the dogs. His relationship with Blair just complicated his relationship with the police. Perhaps if he had tried to return it sooner… If Blair suddenly turned up with _The Empress_ now, she might be going to jail right along with him.

It was like being at endgame on the losing side in a game of chess.

He needed to step up his game before he completely lost control of the board.

Suddenly, Chuck realized that while his mind had been wandering over the problem of the necklace, Dorota had brought in a tea cart and beginning to pour for Eleanor.

"I just want tea," Blair specified. "Mom, you would not believe the amount of waffles at Lily's brunch. More carbs than I eat in a month!"

Chuck grinned as he recalled Blair's carefully concealed dismay as she discreetly passed half her waffle to him.

"Lily was Lily Rhodes, was she not? We were at school at Constance together."

"I'm sure she'd love to see you again. You'll have to come to brunch with us next time."

Eleanor snorted impatiently.

Chuck took a tea cup from Dorota and raised it to his lips, shocked that it seemed to contain a hearty shot of hundred year old scotch along with the tea. He flashed a look at the maid, who gave him an almost imperceptible smile and a discreet wink. At least he had an ally here today.

Blair was still chattering about the brunch. "That reminds me, Lily's stepdaughter Jenny is just finishing up at Parsons and is looking to go into fashion design. She showed me some of her sketches and they look like they have promise. I told her I would show them to you."

"Fine," Eleanor heaved a sigh. "Be a dear and put them in my bag upstairs. I'll look at them on my flight to Milan tomorrow."

"You're leaving so soon?" Blair looked disappointed.

"I'm afraid so. Fashion Week isn't going to prepare for itself. Now run along while I get to know Charles a bit better."

Blair took a last look at Chuck before disengaging their hands and going upstairs.

When her daughter was safely out of earshot, Eleanor turned to Chuck. "I apologize for foisting this little get-together on you when you've already been socializing with family all day, but I was curious, you see."

"Curious?" Chuck raised an eyebrow.

"Since you've been together, Blair has been…different. Happy. I'd like her to stay that way."

"As would I."

"Look, I know you're handsome and charming. And my daughter finds you very intriguing just now. But she's brought home handsome and charming men before. Nate was handsome and charming. Her prince was handsome and charming. Even her father is handsome and charming," Eleanor mused. "But where are they now? They didn't have what it takes. I need to know if you do." She was staring at him with single-minded intensity.

"Look, Mrs. Waldorf, I'm not sure what you're getting at. I can only tell you this: I'm in love with Blair and no one wants her to be happy more than I do."

"What are your intentions towards her?" No, she was not done grilling him yet.

 _I intend to love her until the day I die._ "As I said, I intend to make her happy. Anything else about our future will be decided by both of us together. When we make any decisions, you'll be among the first to know."

She was quiet for a moment, but she seemed to accept his words.

"You're taking this awfully well," she observed with suspicion.

"This is hardly my first talk with one of Blair's loved ones. In fact, it's my fourth."

"Fourth?!" Eleanor's jaw fell open.

"Yes, I've already been set straight by Dorota, Serena and Nathaniel."

"Nate? Ha, that's rich! I wish he had cared so much about my daughter's happiness when they were in high school."

"I'm actually glad he didn't, because it means that Blair is here with me now."

"Hmm," she digested that thought for a moment. "I like you, Chuck," she confided.

"The feeling is mutual, Mrs. Waldorf." He couldn't entirely suppress his grin.

"Call me Eleanor."

Blair appeared at the top of the stairs and smiled at them both as she descended. "What did I miss?"

* * *

It was several hours later when Blair's phone began playing "King of Anything."

"Good evening, Bass. Miss me?"

"Always. Listen, I just discovered I need to go to Paris tomorrow to resolve an issue in our offices there. Wanna come with me?"

Blair groaned.

"I'll be working a lot of the time, but I'm sure we can squeeze in a river cruise down the Seine, maybe a visit to Versailles, and definitely some very decadent and delicious meals." There should be a law against the tempting way he said 'decadent' and 'delicious.'

She gritted her teeth. "Chuck, you know I want to go. You also know why I can't say yes."

She expected him to argue or to become even more persuasive, but he didn't. He just sighed and said, "I know. I guess I'll see you when I get back."

Her resolve almost wavered then. She wanted so much to go. But she had to stay strong. For both their sakes. "Goodnight, Chuck. I love you."

"Goodnight, Blair."

She should have felt empowered. She had resisted him this time. Instead, she still felt conflicted.

Even after Blair went upstairs and turned in for the night, she tossed and turned. Sleep was elusive. The situation was impossible. Why wouldn't Chuck work with her? Why couldn't he trust her? Surely they could figure this thing out together.

She went over various scenarios in her mind that she could present to him when he returned. She thought about what things might be like if they had met under different circumstances. What if their eyes had met across a crowded room? What if they just went native and lived on Chuck's island from here on out?

It was a beautiful fantasy and she found her eyelids become heavy…heavier…finally falling closed. She was having the most wonderful dream about the tide washing over her and Chuck as they lay kissing on the sand….

Suddenly, the dream became more vivid. She could hear the crash of the waves, feel the weight of Chuck's body against her…. Her eyes flew open. "Chuck?!"

"Shh," he breathed in her ear. "I couldn't sleep. And I hadn't told you those 3 words/8 letters I wanted to tell you in person. I love you, Blair."

"I love you," she whispered back. "Come under the covers with me."

"As tempting as that is, I'll just stay out here." He was still fully clothed and only missing his shoes as he curled around her blanketed body and pressed kisses down her partly bare shoulder. "I just want to spend every single second with you until I have to leave."

She nuzzled closer.

"I'll probably be gone when you wake up, but I'll call you from Paris, alright?"

"Mm-hmm." She felt warm and safe and loved.

* * *

Chuck had hoped to be home within a couple of days, but it was nearly a week later when the Bass jet touched down in Manhattan at almost midnight.

He was longing to see Blair, but it was so late and he was exhausted. He'd go see her first thing in the morning. He had a longing to see her face that no amount of texts and sexy phone calls (of which there had been many) could allay.

A seasoned traveler, Chuck was usually the type to feel at home anywhere, but this time felt different. He was actually relieved to be back in Manhattan and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He woke up an hour later to insistent beeping coming from his phone on the nightstand. The home security alarm was going off.

Someone was in his house.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins and he was instantly awake.

He decided to leave the room in darkness, as it gave more advantage to him in being familiar with the room's layout, but suddenly there was a dark figure crossing the threshold and moving toward the bed.

Without hesitation, Chuck reached over and turned the switch on the bedside lamp. The room was filled with soft light that chased away the darkness and illuminated the mystery figure.

He was dreaming. He had to be. Because he'd never seen anything like that in his life.

It was Blair, but from some other dimension.

She was wearing a black patent leather cat suit with knee-high boots. The suit was skin tight and shiny.

How had she gotten into that thing? How could she breathe in that thing? More importantly, how could he breathe looking at her in that thing?

Her hair was down and flowing over her shoulders in waves. Her eye look was smokier than usual and a bright crimson lipstick showcased that perfect pout.

He couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.

"Good evening, Mr. Bass," she all but purred the words, slowly advancing toward the bed.

Yes, he was definitely dreaming, but he'd never had a dream quite so vivid before. He could smell her Chanel No.5.

"We need to talk." She was standing right in front of him now. "You know, they say it takes a thief to catch a thief."

Something silver flashed through the air and before he knew it he was shackled to the cast iron bed frame with a pair of handcuffs.

"I'm afraid you've been Bassnapped."

Crime had never sounded so desirable.

"And I'm not going to let you go until you tell me where that necklace is and we come up with a plan to fix this." She pushed him back on the bed and then climbed on top of him, straddling his upper legs.

"You had me at 'not going to let you go'."

She leaned down and placed a light kiss on his lips.

Then a deeper one.

Chuck's response was to spread his legs, sweeping her legs out from under her and causing her to collapse onto his chest.

It knocked the wind of her and she didn't get a chance to catch her breath before his lips were on hers once more, teasing them apart with his tongue.

She made a little happy noise and let her tongue come out to play with his.

They kissed until they were both breathless.

"You don't seem so scary now," he pointed out.

"I'm just getting started." Her hands went to the buttons on his silk pajama shirt and she unfastened them quickly. Then she started at his neck and began kissing her way down his chest.

He was suddenly ready to confess to anything and everything.

And that was before she unknotted the tie on his pajama bottoms and pushed them out of her way.

He was already hard and ready for her. So much the better. Her hand came around his cock and ghosted up and down, varying speed and pressure and watching the effect it had on him.

"Blair, I swear, if you don't unlock these cuffs right now…." He sounded a bit breathless…

But not breathless enough.

Her lips came down and closed around the tip, tasting him and running her velvety tongue over him and drawing him further into her mouth.

He couldn't do anything. He was completely at her mercy. Chuck Bass, who was always in control—and if asked, would tell that was how he liked it, found himself completely surrendering….

Well, maybe not completely.

Reflexively, his hands reached for her. He needed to touch her, if only to entangle his fingers in her hair, but his range of motion was limited.

Blair slapped his hands. "Bad hands!"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I think we both know I am very, very good with my hands. As your body well knows. Perhaps you need a reminder?"

She slapped his hands again. "Bad hands take what doesn't belong to them."

"But don't you belong to me?"

He let out the breath he'd been holding when she answered, "Always!"

"Blair, I think there's something you're forgetting."

"What's that?" She tilted her head as she considered the possibility.

His lips came up to fasten onto the soft skin of her neck, licking his way down over her collarbone and descending her décolletage, while grinding his hardness against her core.

Even through the thick suit, she could feel every inch of him. Her eyes closed in bliss and she let out a little cry.

"You see, even though I'm very good with my hands, I'm perfectly capable of pleasuring you without them. Wouldn't you agree?"

Blair could not argue.

"I really like tonight's ensemble," his eyes roamed appreciatively over her cat suit, "but I'm especially looking forward to your not wearing anything at all."

"Hey, I call the shots here," she reminded him.

"But if you were naked, I could…," he whispered a very naughty possibility. "Also, I'm prepared to beg."

"You better be." The words might have been sharp, but they came out as a sigh.

"Please?"

How was she supposed to resist the look he was giving her. "Well, since you asked so nicely…."

She slid off him and stood beside the bed.

One by one, she unzipped both boots and kicked them aside.

The side zipper on her suit was next.

The sirens of old might have lured men to their deaths with the sound of their singing, but Chuck Bass was ready to fall on the rocks for the sound of Blair Waldorf lowering a zipper.

Then she slowly, sensuously peeled the garment from her body, her eyes never leaving his.

When she standing in front of him in a pair of barely there lace panties, Chuck Bass felt like he was finally home.

The lamp caught a flash of light around her neck. The key to the cuffs was hanging on a delicate chain between the valley of her breasts. A fact he hadn't noticed while under the influence of her neck. It was his kryptonite. He was so close…

"Blair, uncuff me."

"Why?" She wanted to draw this out just a little bit more."

"So I can be holding you when I make love to you. I've been waiting all week."

And with that, she broke. Without a word, she took the key and unfastened the cuffs.

Immediately, his arms came around her and pulled her atop him.

"I missed you," he seemed to pull the words from her mouth.

"Not as much as I missed you, baby," he murmured in her ear.

Was anything so magical as the little endearments he used when they were together like this?

His fingers slid down her waist and pulled at the lace of her panties. They came apart in his hands and he pulled the finely knit remnant away from her body. Then he flipped her and paused for a moment, just looking down at her.

"We're the perfect partners in crime, you know."

"How so?"

"Well, you do the breaking -."

"It wasn't breaking," she protested. "I had a key."

He grinned but was not distracted. "I'll do the entering."

And then he was inside her and she was gloriously filled with him. The sensation went through her from head to toe. They were moving together, their bodies dancing, communing together, remembering, celebrating each other.

"I love you." She hadn't even realized she'd said it first until he responded in kind.

Everything was going faster, faster…

They completely lost control…together.

After, when they were lying skin on skin, catching their breath and basking in the warmth of each other, Chuck let out a breath. "I have to concede that you are the master thief here."

"I am?"

"Certainly. You stole my heart, didn't you?"

To Be Continued in Chapter 15

* * *

Author's Note:

A belated birthday shout-out to the delightful mercury1893. You are a treasure!

Special thanks to my reader-reviewers of Chapter 13: Shrk22, vale1103, pianogirl1, Trosev, Kananox, Almaloney33, mercury1893, Klarobass and purplebowties.

Thank you for the theories that were suggested. They were certainly intriguing, though I will neither confirm nor deny…yet.

More revelations are coming soon.

I am really excited to share this chapter with you and would love to hear your thoughts. Reviews make me giddy. Please drop one into the magic text box.

Xoxo


	15. Chapter 15

_Last time in the Bassverse: Chuck and Blair had a talk in the limo about all (well, most) of their relationship obstacles before taking the long way home. Blair was nervous about meeting Chuck's family at brunch, but she charmed them, as Chuck charmed Eleanor when she ambushed them back at the Waldorf penthouse. After returning from a business trip in Paris, Chuck received a midnight visit/sexy interrogation from Blair._

Chuck stifled a yawn. He'd arrived home late last night and then had a wonderful surprise visit by Blair, both of which added up to one very exhausted but happy Bass.

"Mr. Bass," his secretary announced on the intercom, "there's a…police person here to see you."

Chuck frowned. "Send him in."

His eyes flickered over the disheveled figure in the doorway. From the rumpled suit to the tousled locks long overdue for a haircut, he was a sorry sight. Really, did he sleep in those clothes? That certainly appeared to be the case.

"Detective," Chuck nodded. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He made it sound as if it were anything but.

"Mr. Bass," Dan replied evenly. "I'm just following up on our investigation into the stolen _Empress_ necklace."

"And how is that going?" Chuck leaned back slightly in his chair and indicated one of the seats on the other side of the desk.

Dan sat down and leaned slightly forward. "It's progressing."

"That's good to know. Our tax dollars at work."

"We try to be good stewards of the public trust."

"To serve and protect."

"That's what I signed on for."

"Really? It wasn't for some romantic reason like enriching yourself with the narrative of the streets?"

Dan shifted in his seat and adjusted his collar. "I wanted to help people. But this investigation is, in my opinion, wasting a lot of resources that would be better allocated. I'd be inclined to drop the whole thing and put all my focus on my other cases. But I hate feeling that I haven't done my best, and Blair Waldorf is smart…."

"She's smarter than both of us put together," Chuck pointed out.

"So if she thinks you stole that necklace, I'm inclined to believe her."

"If I did steal that necklace—and what reason could I possibly have for doing so?—then where is it? You've already searched my home and office. Ms. Waldorf can attest that I do not have it concealed on my person." Chuck could no more help the little smirk that crossed his lips than Dan could help the sneer of disgust marring his features.

It was time to wrap this up. "I don't have the necklace. You don't have the necklace. Obviously, you don't have any evidence against me or you'd be asking me to come down to the precinct with you right now. To be honest, I'm surprised you were able to get a search warrant. You must have called every judge in town."

"Just about," Humphrey muttered.

"So if we're finished here, I have things to do." He stifled another yawn and he went back to his paperwork.

"You seem tired. Did you sleep well?"

"As you probably know, I got in late last night from Paris. It's just jet lag."

Dan shot him a dubious look.

Ah, now Chuck understood. This was not just about the necklace. Dan knew that Blair had paid Chuck a visit last night…and he did not approve.

"Ms. Waldorf is very beautiful, isn't she? And smart. Easily, the most fascinating woman you've ever met." Chuck might have been talking to himself here.

Dan bristled at the implication. "What? No! She just deserves better than some billionaire playboy who's just toying with her and has taken up thievery as a hobby."

"Toying with her?" His eyebrows rose. "I wouldn't dare. Some risks are too great, even for me."

"Look, we both know this means nothing to you and all she's going to get out of this a broken heart. Assuming you don't land her in jail or on unemployment first."

Chuck could not believe he was getting 'the talk' yet a fifth time. Everyone was so worried he was going to break Blair's heart, when the opposite was clearly the greater danger here.

"You have no idea what I am prepared to offer her, and since this is neither your professional nor personal business, I suggest you stay out of it." His tone was cool, but the threat was unmistakable.

"I'm just trying to do my job as well as look out for a colleague and friend." Dan stood up. "I'd really hate to see things go badly for Blair." He could make threats as well. "I'll be touch." He turned and headed for the door.

"I'll be counting the hours, I do assure you." The sarcasm was fairly dripping from his tongue.

Chuck went back to his paperwork but found it difficult to concentrate. There was just something so irritating about that guy….

His thoughts were interrupted by an incoming call on his cell. He glanced at the Caller ID display but the number was unfamiliar. Who was calling his private number?

Only one way to find out. "Bass."

"Chuck?"

The corners of his lips turned up. "Good morning, beautiful."

His morning was taking a turn for the better.

"Chuck, we have a problem."

So much for the turnaround. "What's wrong?" He was immediately solicitous.

"The police were here. They searched the apartment." Blair's voice was eerily calm, sounding almost detached. The fact that she sounded like she didn't care at all was a complete giveaway as to how upset she was.

"Detective Douche paid me a little visit as well. It appears he also considers himself the relationship police."

"I'm so glad my mother's in Italy right now."

Had she even heard him?

"It's going to be okay, Blair. I'll be right over."

"No, don't! I'm probably under surveillance. I'm calling you from Dorota's cell phone."

That explained the mystery number.

"I'll sneak in after work then. Everything's going to be fine."

"No, Chuck, it's not."

"Why?"

She made a little noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob. "Because the Erickson Beamon necklace is upstairs in my jewelry box."

"What?! Blair, I thought you said you were going to return it the next morning."

"I was," she admitted. "I meant to. It's just…."

"I knew it! I knew you loved that necklace." He sounded more than a little smug.

"That's not why I kept it, Basshole!"

"No? What was it then?"

"I kept it because…because…."

Oh, this was going to be good.

"Because you gave it to me."

Shock. Awe. Butterflies.

"On the night you told me you loved me," she added quietly.

Just when he thought he couldn't love her any more than he already did…

"I tell you I love you every night," he pointed out. _And I always will._

"Yes, but that was the first time."

He smiled. "Blair Waldorf is a romantic."

She scoffed. "That's hardly a secret. It's gotten me into a lot of trouble in my life."

"Not this time. Blair, is the necklace still there?"

"I don't know yet. I'm afraid to look. I called you the second they left."

"Did they take anything with them?"

"I don't think so. Can you believe that coward Humphrey didn't even have the guts to show his face?"

"If you'd been listening to me earlier, you'd have heard me say that he was here in my office while they were searching your place."

"What did he want?"

"To rattle my cage."

"I'm sure that was a fail."

"Of course it was. If Blair Waldorf in a patent leather cat suit can't get me to talk, then Dan Humphrey stands no chance. Which reminds me…unlike Humphrey this morning, I really enjoyed your visit last night."

"Which reminds me…don't think I didn't realize you derailed my interrogation."

"I guess you'll just have to interrogate me some more."

"Don't joke, Chuck. This is serious. What are we going to do?"

"You are going upstairs to check on the necklace. If it's not there, go file a complaint. That necklace belongs to you. Then go about your business today like nothing has happened. Don't tell Humphrey you know he was at my office. They were thinking to divide and conquer; they don't need to know that we're circling the wagons."

"Circling the wagons? Is that something we haven't tried from the Kama Sutra?" He could hear the grin in her voice.

"Oh, we're going to try them all," he drawled out the last word. "I'm very thorough."

"Chuck, stop being naughty!"

"You started it. But I'm prepared to finish it. Until tonight…."

"Tonight," she echoed. "3 words, 8 letters."

Tonight couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

Blair strolled into her bedroom, kicking off her heels as went. She couldn't imagine where Dorota was, but the day had been long and she wanted to relax a bit before Chuck arrived.

She walked into the closet and surveyed her collection of robes, choosing her favorite in dark grey velvet. Her hand went to the side zipper on her dress, fingers clasping the zipper pull, when a masculine hand closed over hers and a strong arm encircled her waist as they lowered her zipper together.

"How was your day, dear?"

Trust Chuck Bass to make a clichéd greeting sound so sexy whispered in her ear.

The dress slid off her shoulders and pooled at her feet.

Blair whirled around in surprise and then settled into his arms, reaching up to pull him in for a kiss.

"You're early!"

"Turns out you can make your own hours if you're the boss." He was kissing her again.

The spaghetti-thin straps of her slip were gliding over her shoulders only to be replaced by his lips.

His fingers slid down her sides, pausing at the hem of her slip and pulling it up, up and over her head. Then he pulled one pin after another from her chignon, until her hair came cascading down in waves over her shoulders.

"I sent Dorota home early as well. I hope that meets with your approval?"

Chuck's tie was already gone and the top buttons of his shirt were undone, giving her more collar to grab and hold onto.

"Perfect," she murmured.

"Arthur is prepared to pick up and deliver our dinner whenever you're ready."

"Even better." As if on cue, her tummy rumbled.

"I guess that's now." He held up Blair's robe and helped her into it. "You know, I was half expecting you to come home with a box of your files from the precinct."

She snorted. "Don't think I didn't consider it. I gave Humphrey a piece of my mind for having my place searched. Then I started packing up my things."

"Let me guess, he tried to stop you."

"Of course he did. He's in way over his head with this investigation and he's smart enough to know that at least."

"So you'll still be working with the police."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. It's a fundamental strategy."

"Yours is a beautiful mind."

She winked at him over her shoulder.

"I think we are keeping an eye on each other, to be honest. He doesn't fully trust me. Thinks I'm in love with you and I'm under your 'spell'."

"Are you?" He just needed to hear her say it again.

"Like I said, he does have occasional flashes of brilliance."

"Is there another reason why you're still on the case?"

She hesitated.

He kissed her again.

"Blair, I know. I've known for a long time now."

She looked up him, unsure where to begin.

Chuck placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. "Tell me your secrets…and I'll tell you mine."

There on her bedroom wall, on the Marie Antoinette mural, secured around Marie's neck with hatpins was a sparkling diamond necklace with a massive pear-shaped center stone that seemed to wink in the light.

"It's fitting, isn't it?"

"Is that…?" She was speechless. Thank God he was still holding her shoulders because she felt as if she was going to faint.

" _The Empress,"_ he confirmed.

He had said it out loud. This was really happening.

She turned around and their eyes locked.

"Blair, will you be my partner in crime?"

Their hands found each other's and their fingers intertwined.

"I thought you'd never ask."

To Be Continued in Chapter 16

* * *

Author's Note:

Wishing a very happy birthday to my dear friend Klarobass. Thank you for your friendship, loyalty and support. Hope this new decade brings all you could wish for and more.

As you may have noticed, this chapter is fun-size about half the length of my usual chapters. I hope the surprise at the end made up for it.

There are still plenty of surprises to come in Chapter 16: What does Chuck know that we don't about Blair's motives? Where has the necklace been all this time? Now what are Blair and Chuck going to do with it?

Any theories or thoughts on this chapter, readers? I'd love to hear 'em!

Special shout-out to Chrys1130 for listening to me talk about this chapter and to Kananox, pianogirl1, Klarobass, Trosev, purplebowties, mercury1893 (Bon Voyage, my sweet!) and Shrk22 for reading and reviewing Chapter 14.

Much love to all my readers!

Until next time,

Xoxo


	16. Chapter 16

_Last time in the Bassverse: The NYPD tried a divide-and-conquer approach with Chuck and Blair, with the police searching Blair's apartment at the same time Dan paid a visit to Chuck. The strategy turned out to be a fail, however, as it only showed Chuck and Blair that they needed to come together and end their individual secrets once and for all. Now the necklace is hanging on Blair's bedroom wall and the time for confessions is drawing nigh…._

There on her bedroom wall, on the Marie Antoinette mural, secured around Marie's neck with hatpins was a sparkling diamond necklace with a massive pear-shaped center stone that seemed to wink in the light.

"It's fitting, isn't it?"

"Is that…?" She was speechless. Thank God he was still holding her shoulders because she felt as if she was going to faint.

" _The Empress,"_ he confirmed.

He had said it out loud. This was really happening.

She turned around and their eyes locked.

"Blair, will you be my partner in crime?"

Their hands found each other's and their fingers intertwined.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Still holding his hand, she moved toward the necklace to study it more closely.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" he asked. "Flawless."

"It's lovely, yes. Very impressive. But I still like my necklace better."

"Oh, so it's your necklace now, is it? I take it you called the museum."

"Yes, and they told me the Erickson Beamon necklace had been returned by the request of its donor. That would be you."

"I did try to tell you the necklace legitimately belongs to you."

"Why didn't you tell me when we first visited the Met and were looking at it?"

"Well, I don't like to brag."

"You are such a liar." She rolled her eyes.

"And a thief. And a braggart, apparently. Now you know all my vices."

"That about sums it up, yes."

"I'm also a gambler. And this time I'm all in. I'm putting my life in your hands, Blair. Whatever are you going to do with me?"

She rolled her eyes again.

"Now it's time to put your cards on the table, Blair. Show your hand. Why is this case so important to you?"

"Isn't it obvious? This is the kind of high profile case that can make a career, a reputation. And of course, there's also the commission." She tossed the last part as if it were an afterthought.

"Five percent of the value of this necklace is a huge sum, true. But you're Blair Waldorf. You live on the Upper East Side. You've been a princess. You're hardly a pauper."

"Money is always helpful. There's a big world out there. I want to enjoy it to the fullest."

"But you're not. You aren't traveling, unless it's for business. Even your clothes are all Waldorf Designs samples."

She gaped at him. How did he know that?! "I'm a loyal daughter. I was my mother's first model, you know. She started making clothes for me when I was quite small."

"Both very reasonable excuses. And no one could fault for not being stylish."

She was a bit mollified by the compliment.

"Of course I don't travel for pleasure as much as I'd like. My schedule keeps me very busy."

"Also true, but the fact remains that all your money is going to one thing. Tell me."

She turned half around so he couldn't see her face. "I don't see why I need to. You appear to know."

"You've run my financials; I've run yours. It's only fair. But I want you to trust me, Blair. Can you do that?"

"I don't want to discuss this, Chuck."

He cupped her cheek and gently turned her to face him. "I know you don't, but it's time. I don't want there to be any more secrets between us. I thought you would want that too."

Tears welled in her eyes. "I do."

"Then tell me why every available penny you have is spent on buying up Waldorf Designs stock."

"Because…because it's all my fault." She began to cry in earnest then and Chuck gathered her into his arms.

He sat down on her bed and pulled her into his lap.

"Why is it your fault, sweetheart?" He wiped at her tears with his hand, but more stubbornly sprang up in their place.

"When Louis proposed to me, I was swept away. I was going to be princess. I was living the fairy tale. I didn't stop to think about practical considerations."

"Such as…?"

"Royals don't marry commoners, not without monetary compensation. They wanted a dowry."

"They do realize we're no longer living in the Middle Ages, right?"

"Modern standards don't apply to the royalty of small European countries. The amount of the dowry was insane."

"So not a livestock exchange then? No goats?"

She glared and he grew serious once more.

"My mother took Waldorf Designs public to finance the dowry. It was her life's work, and she gave it up for me."

"But she's still head of the company, isn't she?"

"Nominally. She's the face of the company and she has a leadership role, but she doesn't have final say in decisions. She has to answer to the CEO and board of directors. My mother is an artist, Chuck, who built her company from nothing. Do you know how galling that must be for her?"

"I know it's causing you pain." One of his hands covered hers and squeezed her fingers.

"You know, my mother and I haven't always had the best relationship. Back when I was in high school, I was convinced she wanted me to be more like Serena."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because Serena was tall and thin, the perfect model, the perfect daughter for a designer. She even did a little modeling for my mother. I felt…less than adequate."

Coupled with Nate's preference for Serena, it was a painful wound, Chuck knew. "Look, I don't know what signals your mother was giving you back then, but if she needed models, she was in New York. All the major modeling agencies are here. It's not hard to find to find a model."

"You would know," she scoffed.

Chuck dismissed it. "That was before."

"Before?"

"Before you." It startled Chuck to realize how meeting Blair was such a defining event for him. There was his life before…and now. There was no comparison between the two.

"I didn't realize that my mother was taking the company public until it was already in motion. I was so shocked, so moved that she would do that for me. For the first time, I felt like she really loved me. She was away from home so much when I was growing up, and then my parents' divorce was ugly and long…I felt almost like an afterthought in her life."

Chuck just held her closer and rested his forehead on hers.

"I probably should've stopped her, but I didn't."

"Blair, your mother is Eleanor Waldorf. She's a formidable woman. I don't think anyone could stop her once she decides on a course of action. Where do you think you get it from?"

"But it was such a wasted sacrifice, Chuck! The marriage was short…and it was horrible."

"Yet you stayed far longer than you should've. You yourself told me you hadn't kept anything down in over a week when Nate and Serena brought you home. I know you tried to hide it from your mother, but what did she say when she saw you?"

"She didn't say anything." Blair's voice sounded haunted and distant. "She took one look at me and then she just held me and we called my therapist."

He kissed Blair's forehead.

"That's why I have to fix this, Chuck. Because she was there for me, and I failed her. She raised me to be a powerful woman and I turned out to be a weak little girl."

"Blair, you're the most powerful woman I know. So you made a mistake in your marriage, stop punishing yourself. Maybe it was a little more public because it was a prince, and a little more expensive…"

She gave a bitter little laugh.

"But it was just a mistake," he repeated slowly, emphasizing each word.

She seemed to rally then. "I'm going to get my mother's company back." It was a solemn vow.

"I have no doubt you will. Blair, let me help you."

"Chuck, no!" She made a move to pull away, but he wouldn't let her go. "I know you buy companies every day and for you, this is just a matter of getting out your check book. For me, it's different. I don't want your money."

"We could call it a loan…."

"Thank you, but again, no."

"You realize there's a process to making a company private again? It's not just a matter of having a certain amount of stock."

"I know. And if I need help and advice, I'll take it…but I won't take your money. I need to do this myself."

He sighed. "Just tell me what I can do."

"Well, you've brought me the necklace. Now it's time for you to give up your secrets."

"Would you feel better if you tied me up first?"

She gave him a not-so-playful slap.

"So we're going straight to the spanking then?"

"You wish." She ground her derriere suggestively into his lap.

"No, you wish." His hands cupped the naughty bottom in question and his fingertips sank into her hips.

She sighed against his lips before pressing her lips to his.

Like a soldier needs a shot of alcohol before battle, Chuck felt he needed the kiss for courage.

"I'm going to tell you everything. What you choose to do with that information is up to you."

Blair gave a breathless little laugh. "Chuck, there is absolutely nothing you can tell me that will make me love you less."

"Then where do you want me to start?"

"Let's start with where that damn necklace has been all this time!"

"You don't have any guesses?" He couldn't contain the little smirk that stretched the corner of his mouth.

"If I wanted to play a game, wouldn't we be playing Truth or Dare?"

"Isn't that what we've always done?"

"Then I dare you: tell me the truth."

"Well, you know it's not at the townhouse."

"True."

"And it's not in my offices at Bass Industries."

"I don't actually know that," she mused. "After all, I wasn't in the group that did the search there."

"You are quite thorough," he conceded. "As evidenced by your searches of my person."

"I was confident it was nowhere on your body."

"You're welcome to strip search me once more for old times' sake."

"I'll never be stripping you again if you don't give me an answer!"

"There's more than one answer here. Which do you want?"

"That's a little cryptic," she observed.

"It's the most valuable diamond necklace in the world. I tried out more than one spot."

"Such as…?"

"The fountain in the atrium of the Bass Industries Building."

"Hiding it in plain sight. Interesting."

"Too much traffic volume. So then I decided to move it to my office in Victrola."

"That wasn't a good plan?"

"Not with a certain sexy investigator hot on my tail."

"So sorry to inconvenience you, Mr. Bass. Did you have to go buy one of those little jewelry safes that looks like a can of tomato soup to hide in the pantry?"

"Hardly. I had to come up with someplace seemed simultaneously public and private. Someplace…sacred. Someplace that Blair Waldorf wouldn't find it even if she were on top of it…."

Sacred. On top. Suddenly, it all clicked. "The limo! You had the necklace in the limo."

"Until today." He glanced at the necklace now hanging on her wall.

"I can't believe we never thought to search the limo."

"Well, I did keep you sufficiently distracted when we were inside it. Perhaps you had other mental associations with that place. Hiding it posed a unique challenge this time."

"Why?"

"Because I've never been a suspect before. You're a worthy adversary, Miss Waldorf."

"Well, I don't like to brag…see how silly that sounds?" She couldn't entirely keep the smile off her face.

"Do you want to know how I got the necklace out of the museum?"

"Not especially. Since we are both under surveillance and suspicion, it will be a whole new ballgame getting that necklace back."

"I know. I didn't have this trouble with the others."

"So you admit that this wasn't your first job?"

"Obviously this took some practice and skill."

"Obviously," she agreed. "It's how I found you as a suspect, you know. I ran all the unsolved, high-profile jewel thefts from the past several years. You were on the scene at all of them."

"But I was never a suspect," he reminded her.

"No, they were all stuck on you not having a readily apparent motive. To me, that just made it all the more obvious."

"Why?"

"It's like Sherlock Holmes said, when you remove all other possibilities, whatever choice is left, however improbable, is the answer. So…tell me about your first theft."

"It wasn't a theft; it was…justice."

She waited for him to go on.

"Blair, I've told before that you wouldn't have liked me in high school. I was not a saint."

She shrugged. "Sinners are underrated."

"I was angry. I was bored. I had too much time on my hands."

"They were hardly my golden years either. It's supposed to be the happiest time of your life; I couldn't figure out why I was so miserable."

"You know my father didn't have much use for me. I was barely on his radar. I didn't even think he had a personal life until he announced he was going to marry Lily."

"What did you think of that development?"

"I was surprised but didn't care much one way or the other. In my mind, she was just another Upper East Side socialite on the lookout for a new husband and my father was her latest prey."

"You obviously changed your mind."

"Yes, I had no objections to Lily personally. What I really objected to was my father announcing that he was putting my mother's yellow diamond parure up for auction. It was an amazing set—necklace, bracelet and earrings. Bart gave it to her when they were engaged. She wore it at their wedding. She wanted me to have it for my future wife."

Blair gasped. "How do you know that?"

He looked slightly embarrassed. "It was kept in my father's safe. I knew the combination—it was her birthday. I may have been curious as to what was in there."

"And you found your mother's jewelry set," she continued.

"And a note. Written to me."

"What did it say?"

"Just that she was looking forward to my being born and to seeing me grow up. Her wedding was one of the happiest days of her life and she wanted the same for me." He tried to sound unaffected by the sentiment but was not completely successful.

Chuck Bass was a romantic, and it turns out that was an inherited trait.

"She must have been so excited for you to be born."

"She had no idea the beginning of my life would be the end of her own." Did he sound bitter? Good, he was.

"Still, it was a lovely gift."

"The jewelry wasn't the real gift; it was that the note was the only real communication I had from her, ever will have from her. For a kid who grew up without his mother and whose father could hardly stand to look at him…to find something like that….."

"What did you do once you'd found it?"

"What could I do? I put the note back in the jewelry case and then back into the safe. I believed it was secure there…until Bart made his announcement."

"You were understandably angry." One of her hands squeezed his fingers while the other hand rubbed soothing patterns on his arm.

"There are no words for how angry I was. He was not only stealing my mother's legacy, he was stealing it from me and my future family."

They were silent for a moment.

"So I decided to steal it back, not that you can steal something that belongs to you."

"How old were you then? About fifteen?"

"Yes, so I figured if I got caught, it wouldn't be much of a problem. One, the necklace belonged to my family; two, I was underage so I wouldn't be subject to adult charges, and three, there was no way Bart would prosecute his only son. It would cause too much of a scandal and look bad for the company."

Blair wanted to argue that there were other considerations, that even Bart must have loved his son and namesake….

"So I took my necklace back." For Chuck, it was as simple as that.

"And you didn't get caught."

"No, I think Bart knew it was me, but he never voiced his suspicions and once the heat of the initial investigation was over, it was never mentioned again."

"At least you got her letter back," she reminded him.

"That's just it: I didn't. That was the first thing I looked at when I got the case back to my room. The note was gone like it was never there in the first place."

"Maybe it was somewhere else in the safe…or in Bart's desk?"

"I searched everywhere, and then I knew he must have destroyed it. He took the only part of my mother I will ever have." Chuck clenched his jaw. "I searched again after his death. Nothing."

"How could he do that?" Blair couldn't keep the anger out of her voice.

"Because he's every bit the bastard your mother said he was. I always wondered if the reason he wouldn't initially back Victrola was his way of getting revenge. He got rid of the parure and collected the insurance money, though, so he should've been happy. Like I said, we never discussed it."

"Do you regret that?"

"What was there to say?"

"Don't you want to know why?"

"Does there need to be a reason?"

"Are we playing Twenty Questions now?" Blair tried to inject some levity into the discussion.

He was quiet and the silence seemed to stretch out and fill the room.

"Chuck, do you know what I think? I think Bart deciding to auction the parure was not so much about you or your mother. I think it was about Bart needing to let her go before he could move on with Lily."

"It had been fifteen years since she died. He was hardly a monk during that time."

"But meeting someone that you think you want to marry is a big step, an emotional commitment. It sounds like Bart always had trouble with his emotions. I don't know that he ever really dealt with losing your mother."

"He always said 'Basses love only once'."

"Maybe the reason he never discussed the jewelry with you is because deep down he wanted you to have it; he just couldn't give it to you himself."

"If that were true, wouldn't he have supported me with Victrola?"

"Ultimately, he did, albeit with a little encouragement from Lily," she said softly. "And you made it a success. You took over the company he left you and made it bigger than before. You are there for your family. You take care of them. We can speculate on Bart and his motives as much as we like, but those are the facts."

"The fact remains that the parure was not my last…um…jewelry acquisition."

"Why? I don't know about the others, but this latest little acquisition of yours was downright reckless! Do you want to lose everything you have?" The words came out more sharply than she intended.

"The others were for the challenge. It was like a dare to see what I could pull off. I always found a way to return the jewels later. And no one ever suspected me until -."

"Until now," she finished.

"Until now," he agreed. "Still, no matter what happens, I'll never be sorry I took _The Empress_."

"No?" She was startled by that statement.

"No, because it brought me you."

"Chuck," she let out a sigh, "don't think you can sweet talk me."

"Do we have to talk? Can't we just not talk? Can't you put on that necklace and take off your clothes and love me?"

"You do make the most desirable offers. Before we put this discussion to bed…literally," she stretched in his arms, "what happened to your mother's jewelry?"

"It's buried under the gazebo at my summer place in the Hamptons."

"What am I going to do with you, Bass?" She shook her head.

"Whatever you want. But can you start by putting on the necklace."

"I couldn't," she demurred. "I shouldn't."

"You know you want to. It was created especially for a beautiful, powerful woman. It will fit you perfectly." He led her over to the wall and removed the pins before placing the necklace around her neck.

It felt heavy, though from the weight of the stones or the weight of the issues she and Chuck faced, Blair couldn't say.

It was, undeniably, beautiful.

"You fit me perfectly," she whispered as lips placed reverent kisses around her collar bone and shoulders.

"Even if I'm damaged and a thief?" It was a serious question.

She shrugged. "The great loves are the crazy ones."

"I am, you know…crazy about you."

"The feeling is mutual."

They melted into each other and the night.

To Be Continued in Chapter 17

* * *

Author's Note

Well, how's that for a bunch of revelations?! Did any of your predictions come to pass?

My readers had some great theories (bonus points to Kananox, because the limo figured into one of the seven that were suggested). Some of the theories were so good I was kicking myself for not thinking of them first! But the course has been set and the route is mapped out.

Now that Chuck and Blair have merged their resources (if that's what we're calling it now), what will be their next step in the saga of the necklace? Now that they are partners in crime, will crime ever be the same? Share your theories!

Special dedication of this chapter to Mama Francis. She has no idea who I am and has not read my story, but if it makes DirekFrancis laugh, then she laughs too. And that is very special and heartwarming to me.

Special thanks to Kananox, pianogirl1, Klarobass, Trosev, Shrk22, purplebowties and DirekFrancis. Plus a little wave to ChuckBlair8.

Readers, I adore hearing from you. The review box/PMs are always open.

Until next time,

Xoxo


	17. Chapter 17

_Last time in the Bassverse: Chuck and Blair had a long, serious conversation about the secrets they'd been keeping from each other. Now they are ready to move on to their next step as partners in crime. Their mission: unsteal a necklace._

"I am, you know…crazy about you," Chuck confessed.

"The feeling is mutual."

They melted into each other and the night.

It was several hours later when Chuck awakened.

He felt…

Warm.

Sated.

Loved.

He was wrapped around Blair's sleeping form and shifted subtly, so as not to wake her. As he did, he caught a glimpse of them in the mirror above the mantel of Blair's fireplace. The pristine, silken sheets were spread over his shoulders like wings. His dark hair looked artfully disheveled, in contrast to Blair's flowing waves. His arm encircled the swell of her breasts, holding her flush to his body. Her features, accented by dramatically dark brows, looked peaceful and relaxed. Only her lips, kissed to earthy fullness, gave a hint to their earlier activities.

She was breathtaking.

As was the magnificent diamond pendant cradled in the valley of her décolletage. Even in the low light, the stones sparkled against the matte pallor of her skin like stars in the night sky.

She was a goddess.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a second before opening them to take it all in again. And that was when he noticed it: he and Blair were in a pose echoing that of Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss. The difference was that Blair was the one who had brought him to life.

He wished her could give her _The Empress_. Something of such power and beauty belonged on someone equally powerful and beautiful. Alas, it could only be hers for a night. He wanted to capture the moment, to celebrate that there were no more secrets between them, that they were truly partners now. But he dare not. Even a deleted photo on his phone might somehow be retrievable and cause trouble for them in the future. They were in enough danger; he needed to protect her however he could.

So he settled back into the sheets and contented himself with the feel of her skin against his. He stared at their reflection in the mirror, memorizing every detail of how _The Empress_ looked on his queen until the first streaks of dawn appeared in the sky.

It was time.

He carefully slid out of the covers and donned Blair's grey robe from a nearby chair. Then he knelt beside Blair's side of the bed, taking one last, lingering look at her in the necklace. His fingers came up to gently stroke her face with feather-light touches before sliding over jawline and down her neck.

For the merest second, her eyelids flickered before fully opening and fixing those deep, dark eyes on his. "Chuck?" Her voice was still laced with sleep.

"Shh, sweetheart, I have to go now," he whispered.

Her lower lip thrust forward in a pout he couldn't resist kissing.

"And I have to take the necklace. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was fun playing dress-up for a night."

"This is the probably the first time that necklace has been worn in over a century…and you wear it well. I wish you could keep it."

"I have you; that's all I need." She gave him a little smile. "Besides, it's served its purpose. Without it, we might never have met."

"And that would have been a tragedy." He smiled back. "Nathaniel and I are flying out to see the Lakers game tonight, but I'll be back tomorrow evening, and we'll devise a way to get the necklace returned."

She nodded.

His fingers traced the outline of the necklace on her skin before reaching around for the antique clasp.

It stubbornly refused to unfasten and Blair brought her hands up to assist.

"See, even the necklace thinks it belongs on you," Chuck observed.

"Or maybe, as you said, it just hasn't been worn in over a century," Blair pointed out.

Finally, the fastener gave way and The Empress began to slide down her neck and Chuck gathered the sparkling waterfall of stones and setting into his hands.

Blair's fingers closed around his. "Chuck, it's a beautiful necklace, but even if we could keep it, it would never mean as much to me as the Erickson-Beamon does. I love it…and I love you." She kissed him gently on the lips.

"Blair, I just-." He broke off abruptly, unsure how to explain that he wanted to give her the world and why it was so important to him. "I wish I weren't leaving you now. We need to be together to make plans." It wasn't what he originally intended to say, but it was just as true.

"And we will be. It's only for a day and a night. Maybe it will give us both a chance to think without…distractions."

"I'm a distraction?" His grin was devilish.

"The very worst kind," she confirmed. "And you know it."

"Then I'd better leave you with something to remember me by."

His lips were on hers, and she forgot about everything else, even the diamond necklace that slid through his fingers and onto the parquet floor….

* * *

When the phone on her bedside table trilled, Serena Archibald reached for it hurriedly. "Natie?"

"Rena, were you sleeping?"

"Not yet. Topher didn't want to go down tonight and Cassie wanted to stay up all night and have a girls' sleepover since you're away."

Nate laughed. "I'm sorry I haven't called sooner. Chuck tried to establish a 'no phones' ban…not that he's been following that himself."

Serena grinned. "I know. Blair came over for dinner and her phone kept chirping. So how are you able to call me now? Where's Chuck?"

"Just got in the shower. We went bar-hopping after the game. Chuck said he didn't mind going to cheap bars, but he didn't want to smell like them."

"Who won the game?"

"The Lakers…naturally."

"I'm glad you and Chuck had a good time."

"We did, but I'm missing you. Maybe not as much as Chuck is missing Blair…."

"What makes you say that?"

"He is obsessed with that phone and the last text she sent…I don't know what it was, but you should've seen the smirk on his face."

As if on cue, Chuck's phone buzzed from the coffee table in their suite.

"Nate, was that his phone? Quick, go see what's on it!"

"Serena, I don't believe you! Blair is your best friend."

"Exactly. What's a little snooping between friends?"

"Serena!" Nate's voice had a warning tone.

"Oh, c'mon, you know you want to see that smirk-inducing text. So move it! Chuck's not going to be in the shower all night, you know."

"I don't snoop and I don't gossip."

Serena rolled her eyes. "Yes, you're a paragon of virtue, but it's not gossip if you're sharing with your wife. Your lonely, overtired wife…."

"Oh, alright, but I'm just reading you that text that made Chuck smirk."

"Fine, just hurry!"

Nate reached over and picked up the phone. He'd half-expected it to be locked, but one quick swipe and he was in Chuck and Blair's text conversation.

"It opened!"

"Why are you so surprised? You have no future with the CIA, Mr. Archibald. None. What does the text say?"

Nate scrolled up…and gasped loudly.

"Blair wants his opinion of this diamond heart necklace she's wearing. There's a picture."

"Oh, that's so sweet. He probably gave it to her."

"Serena, the necklace is all she is wearing!" Nate was truly scandalized.

"What?! Our Blair?" Serena was suddenly glad she was lying down.

"Yes, our lifelong prim and proper friend just sent Chuck a nude selfie."

"And what did he reply?"

"Trust me, Serena, you don't want to know. It's safe to say, though, that Chuck has seen a side to Blair that no one else ever has." He put the phone back on the table.

"I'm glad. I'm glad he loves her, because she is head over heels for him. I've never seen her like this before. I think he may be the one for her."

"I think so too. They seem to be the perfect fit. And speaking of perfect…any chance you might send me a similar pic tonight?"

"Nate, no! My body's not back to normal yet after the baby," she started to protest.

"You are always my golden goddess." The warmth in his voice generated equal warmth in her heart.

Nate heard the shower cut off. "Serena, I have to go, but I'll be waiting for that pic."

Five minutes later, Chuck and Nate were clad in robes and enjoying a last scotch when Nate's phone chirped.

Nate shrugged apologetically and opened the text to unveil a photo of his wife, sheets wrapped strategically around her beautiful body and a sexy smile on her lips. "Sweet dreams," it read.

His lips curved into a wide smile. They would be sweet indeed.

* * *

The moon was competing with the lights of the Manhattan skyline and it was way past midnight the following night when Chuck Bass finally crossed the threshold of his brownstone.

The trip had been great. Nathaniel was good company. The game had been well worth watching. Only one thing had been missing: Blair. Chuck felt like he'd left half himself behind In New York. He and Blair had so much to discuss about the necklace, about their futures….

He'd planned to go straight to her place once the plane landed, but mechanical delays and heavy rains in the Midwest had delayed his arrival. Now the best he could hope for was meeting for breakfast.

He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. Morning seemed very far away.

His bed, turned down invitingly, should have been a welcoming sight. It only looked empty and cold.

He glanced back at the clock. Blair was sure to be asleep.

And if he stayed here in that empty, cold bed, he was sure not to be.

He picked up his phone and dialed Arthur.

A half hour later, Chuck stealthily climbed the stairs up to Blair's room.

The low light from the bedside lamp showed his goddess fast asleep under a silky duvet. As promised, she was wearing the Erickson-Beamon necklace and nothing else.

Chuck shrugged out of his jacket, kicked off his shoes and tossed his bow tie. Then he slid under the duvet and wrapped himself around Blair, inhaling her signature scent and planting a light kiss on the top of her bare shoulder.

"Chuck?" Her voice was thick with sleep.

"My love?" His answer was a whisper in her ear.

"I'm glad you're home."

He was too, in a way he couldn't seem to put into words.

"Love you," she murmured.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

She settled back into his arms and they let sleep claim them.

He was no longer in any hurry for breakfast.

By the time the sun first picked out the metal-clad panels on the spire of the Chrysler Building, Chuck was deep in dreamland. His subconscious cinema was showing the most fantastic film about Blair. It was so vivid he could feel the silk of her skin against him, smell her perfume, hear her whisper his name…

"Chuck…."

He could feel her exhale the word against his ear and it had never sounded so sweet.

"Chuck…."

Her breath was warm and it teased the shell of his ear before the word morphed into a light kiss on his neck.

His eyes came open in surprise and he gasped for breath.

This was no dream.

"Blair?"

Oh, God, that voice. Any time of the day it could seduce her, but it was especially potent when he was lingering in that magical place half between sleep and consciousness.

"Good morning." The words were whispered against his lips.

He was definitely awake now.

"What time is it?" He tried to look at the clock.

"Still early. We have plenty of time for me to make good on the promises I made when you were in LA. As you may have noticed, I'm wearing the necklace you gave me…and nothing else." She shifted to move even closer to him.

Oh, he had noticed all right. He gritted his teeth. "Blair, no."

"No?" She clearly didn't understand. Her pouty lower lip appeared as if to change his mind. It brushed against his own lower lip, lightly at first and then with more pressure, until she coaxed his lip between hers and captured it in a slow kiss. She gave a little hum of appreciation that sent a shiver from his lips through his whole body.

"No?" She asked again.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, clenching his jaw. "No."

"Why?" Oh, God, she was drawing back to examine him with those dark eyes. "Don't tell you're not interested. I can feel how very interested you are." She shifted her body closer to his again…and he almost broke.

"Unless you had more fun on your trip than you let on?" Her jealousy was stirring.

"Blair, look at me." He brought his hands up to her face and tilted it up towards his. "Do you really believe that I would take Nathaniel and fly across the country just to jeopardize what we have?"

She looked away. "I don't know what to think," she confessed. "I don't know what you're thinking."

"I'm thinking that now more than ever I need to stay focused. We are so close to getting this necklace thing resolved so that we can be together. I don't want anything to mess that up. I'm not going let anything mess that up, no matter how irresistible you are intent on being."

She smiled. "You think I'm irresistible?"

"You know you are, so stop flaunting it. Go put on a robe and call Dorota for some coffee for us. We need to make plans if we want to take care of that necklace tonight."

"Tonight?!" She was truly shocked.

"I don't know if I can turn you down two nights in a row," he admitted. "If we can get this resolved, you'll get no sleep tonight, I promise you."

Those amber eyes were burning into hers and it was suddenly very hard to breathe. "Is that a promise…or a threat?"

"It's a plea, for you to kiss me one more time before we get started. As much as I love my sexy goddess," he threaded his fingers through her long curls, "I need my partner in crime today."

In a flash, she'd given him a chaste but sincere kiss and was moving towards her closet. "Well, then we'd better move this downstairs to the dining room. We're going to need a conference table to draw up our plans."

When Dorota came in with the coffee and fruit, they were poring over some papers, their heads close together, deep in discussion.

It looked intense and the maid had a fleeting fear that perhaps they were planning to take over the world.

In which case, the world stood no chance.

And perhaps she'd better make more coffee.

* * *

Chuck Bass was waiting at the bottom of the main staircase in Blair's apartment promptly at 6 p.m. that evening.

Then she appeared…and stole his breath away.

Blair was wearing a sleeveless, floor-length gown in cobalt blue. It had a plunging neckline that went almost to her waist, which was cinched in a twisted knot. A large black bow peeked through the knot and a cascade of cobalt silk trailed down the front of the skirt. Her hair was half up, half down, and her only jewelry was diamond studs in her ears.

Slowly, she descended, pausing midway on the landing, before reaching the foot of the stairs. He had her evening wrap, courtesy of Dorota, and his fingers lingered on her shoulders as he wrapped it around her.

When they were safely ensconced in the elevator, he turned to her. "You look ravishing, but I thought we agreed not to wear anything that would attract too much attention." He gestured to his own classic black tuxedo/white shirt/black bow tie ensemble.

"Not too much, not too little—that was the agreement, yes. So no red ballgowns and no little black dresses. The blue seemed a good compromise, don't you think?"

"It's certainly attracting my attention." He traced a finger down the plunging neckline, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

"I can change," she offered. "We still have time, if you think it's too much?"

"No one who sees you tonight will forget you were there. And this neckline? All the better to ravish you, my dear. Your sense of style is always perfect." He placed a kiss on her collar bone. "No necklace?" he teased.

"We have enough of those to deal with tonight, don't we?" She quirked an eyebrow in his direction.

"A kiss for luck?" His hand was cupping her face.

"For luck," she placed her lips on his. "And love."

He traced the outline of her lips with his finger. "And love," he repeated.

The elevators opened to the building's lobby and they stepped out into the evening.

Showtime!

It didn't take long to arrive at the benefit dinner for Lily's Central Park Beautification Brigade. She greeted them warmly before moving on to mingle with the other guests.

Chuck and Blair were seated at the same table, though not directly next to each other. They conversed casually with each other and their other tablemates. When dinner was over, the dancing began and Chuck asked Blair to dance. They made a striking pair on the dance floor, and, as Chuck had predicted, people would remember seeing them together.

When their dance ended, they moved on to other partners, surreptitiously keeping an eye on each other from their respective places on the dance floor.

They danced together again. It would have been a relief to sink into each other's arms and revel in just how right they felt together, but duty called. Chuck held Blair a polite distance away while maintaining light conversation.

When they switched partners again, Chuck found himself dancing with his stepmother, who was confused by the seeming distance between the two. He told Lily they were trying to avoid the paparazzi, something she could certainly understand.

She was relieved the next time she saw them together that Chuck was holding Blair a little more closely. There had been times over the last decade that she feared this would never happen for Chuck and she was so relieved that it had. He and Blair were a perfect match.

It came as no surprise when, after dancing two songs in a row, they left arm in arm. They seemed oblivious to the photographer who captured their image on the dance floor, exiting the venue and sliding into the limo after sharing a searing kiss on sidewalk.

After they disappeared inside, the photographer grinned. His work was done for the night!

* * *

The night doorman at Blair's building was enjoying a slow night, so he was startled when the grey-haired chauffeur came rushing through the door at 11:37 p.m. with a briefcase.

"I have a delivery for Mr. Bass. He's visiting Ms. Waldorf."

'Visiting?' So that was what they were calling it these days. The doorman had seen the couple come in earlier in the evening. They'd looked innocent enough, but the elevator doors hadn't even closed before they were locking lips and had their hands all over each other.

"I can ring them-," the doorman started to say.

"I've gotta go; I'm double-parked. Just be sure Mr. Bass gets it as soon as possible."

"Yes, of course."

He rang the penthouse.

Miss Waldorf answered.

She didn't sound naked, which was a relief, but she did request that he bring the briefcase upstairs.

Saying no to either of the Waldorf women, or their Polish maid, was a nigh impossibility. He sighed and prepared to make his errand as swift as possible. Hopefully, there would be a good tip in this for him.

When the penthouse elevator doors opened, Miss Waldorf was waiting for him…looking like he had never seen her before. She had on a man's navy silk robe, which hung loosely on her delicate frame. Her hair was slightly tousled and her lipstick was a distant memory on plumped lips.

He wasn't sure where to look—was it rude to gaze at her directly?—so he kept his eyes trained toward the floor. That was a mistake, because all he saw were bare feet with toes painted bright red and she really did have the most amazing legs.

Blair was all smiles and gracious thanks. As she was thanking him, a man's husky voice called down from the upper floor. "Darling, is that Arthur with my paperwork?"

She answered in the affirmative, giving the doorman an apologetic smile and generous tip. Then she turned and took the briefcase upstairs.

"On my way."

The doorman watched her pale legs run up the stairs before he got back into the elevator car.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Blair was pacing around her bedroom like a caged animal.

Chuck had slipped out of her building to return the necklace, taking advantage of their ruse with the paperwork delivery.

Mapping software had shown it would take thirteen minutes to walk the 0.6 miles to the Museum. It would've been four minutes by car, but they had deemed taking the limo to be too big a risk.

Right on time, he had texted her on a burner phone to let her know he'd arrived. Both their usual phones were on Blair's vanity, so if they were checked at a later time it would appear they never left her apartment.

But he'd been in the museum for almost twenty minutes now—more than enough time to replace the necklace.

The phone in her hand trilled. "Chuck? Is the necklace returned?"

Chuck's voice was tense. "Yes, and I was on my way out, but I must have tripped something, because some humming ensued. I ducked into the Temple of Dendur and now I'm stuck here because there's some kind of laser grid all over the place."

"Laser grid?"

"Blair, this is not my security system; I temporarily disabled that when I came in. I have no clue what to do about this one."

"They installed a secondary security system then. We shouldn't be surprised." Blair let out a long, slow breath. "Chuck, what color are the beams?"

"Color?"

"Are they blue, yellow or orange? That will tell me what type of system it is."

"Blue."

"I know that system. The beams should shut off in about twenty minutes."

Chuck swore under his breath. "What am I supposed to do until then?"

"Appreciate the architectural magnificence of Egypt in the 15th century BC?" Blair huffed. "Maybe pray? It is a temple, you know."

"I'll keep that in mind." There were noises in the distance. "Sounds like someone's coming."

The phone was suddenly eerily silent.

Maybe he'd just hung up.

Maybe the call had dropped.

She'd wait two minutes and then call him back.

It was the longest two minutes of her life. The clock stubbornly slowed as she considered all the possible things that could go wrong.

She pictured Chuck being led out of the museum in handcuffs…

No way in hell was she going to let that happen.

She dialed the burner phone again. It should be safe since she knew his phone was set to vibrate.

No answer.

Blair stood up and shrugged out of the silk robe, moving towards her closet.

She emerged a few minutes later, clad in black from head to toe, her hair in a tight chignon. She was going to save her man or go down with him.

She tried his phone again.

Still no answer.

She sent a text.

No reply.

There was no other way. She descended the stairs and was rummaging through a drawer for her gloves when the door opened.

And there he was, larger than life and panting for breath. He was wearing a black onesie jogging suit with the hood pulled up. He was also sporting a strong showing of five o'clock shadow, even though it was well past midnight.

The couple just stared at each other for a moment, before Blair moved closer and slapped his arm. "What happened? And how are you back so soon?"

"Security detail showed up, took a look around the gallery and left. I waited until they'd exited the Sackler Wing and then I got of there while the beams were still turned off."

"What about the camera footage?"

"I put it on a loop when I went into the building."

"And the necklace?"

"You know I can't tell you that. You have to uncover it for yourself tomorrow. Your reaction has to be completely natural."

"You're not concerned about the guards finding it?"

"They were only doing a cursory examination. It's a big museum. Gonna take them hours. Besides, they're looking for an intruder, not a missing necklace." He couldn't stop the grin that broke out on his face.

"It scared me to death when the phone stopped working."

"I know. I had to hang up when the guards were coming, and then I couldn't get reception again."

"How did you get back so quickly? It's a thirteen-minute walk."

"A walk, yes; I jogged it. I was, after all, dressed for the exercise."

"You didn't have any trouble getting past the doorman?"

"As you predicted, he'd dozed off over his college textbooks. I had no problem slipping into the elevator."

"While that is hardly good for my building security, it certainly helped us tonight."

"Speaking of getting past the doorman, why are you dressed like that?"

"I was done waiting. I was coming to help you." It seemed perfectly obvious to Blair.

"Blair, we agreed you were to stay here. I wasn't going to risk your safety." He took the gloves out of her hands and squeezed her fingers.

"3 words, 8 letters, Bass. You and me. If you're in trouble, I'm with you. I wasn't going to stand by and do nothing," she scoffed.

"And why is that?" As if he didn't know the answer. He just couldn't resist wanting to hear it again.

"Because I love you, Chuck Bass." She pulled the hood back and ran her hands over the planes of his face, memorizing every angle and curve. "And you've stolen my heart."

"Well, I'm not giving it back. And it's only fair since you stole mine as well. I love you Blair." He planted a feather-light kiss on her lips.

"Now I seem to recall you making some promises last night about no sleep…?"

"You're holding me to that?" he teased.

"It was a bona fide business deal," she nodded.

"There should be some honor among thieves, I suppose." He swept her up into his arms and moved toward the staircase.

On the landing, he paused to give her another kiss. When they broke apart, she whispered against his lips, "I'm all yours, Bass: mind, body and scheme."

For the first time in a long time, Chuck Bass felt the tension fade, leaving only an overwhelming passion for the woman in his arms.

To Be Continued in Chapter 18

* * *

Author's Note:

Well, I'm baaack! Sorry it's taken so long.

Whew, that was a bit of a nail biter there when Chuck and Blair lost phone contact, wasn't it? It looks like they've pulled it off…or have they? Are they out of the woods, as Taylor Swift might say? We shall see.

The blue dress Blair is wearing to Lily's benefit is based on the original Jenny Packham design of the dress in 4x04. I changed the fit and cut a little to match the original design.

Thank you to all my reader-reviewers. Special thanks to Chrys1130 and Shrk22 for previewing this before I posted it; to Ishi and purplebowties for ideas I will be using in the next chapter or two (stay tuned!); and to Kananox, pianogirl1, mercury1893 and a guest for inquiring as to the whereabouts of me and Chapter 17.

Hey, let's talk! (I mean, it worked out so well for Blair and Chuck last chapter) Drop me a review or send me a DM. I'd love to hear from you. And I'll reply back!

Until next time,

Xoxo


	18. Chapter 18

_Last time in the Bassverse: Chuck and Blair instituted part one of their plan to return the necklace. Now it's inside the Met. What happens next?_

"Good morning, Humphrey." Blair stifled a yawn.

The detective looked at her suspiciously. He always looked at her that way these days and frankly she was getting tired of it. Thank goodness this case was almost at an end.

Today. Today was the day she would 'find' _The Empress_ and all would be resolved. Chuck had done his part in getting it back inside the museum and the now the onus was on Blair to successfully complete their caper.

She just had to act in a natural manner….

Blair took a sip of her coffee and returned to the files she was perusing. "I'm going to look at other suspects."

That startled the detective. "What?! I thought you were convinced your billionaire boyfriend was the guilty party?"

She ignored the 'boyfriend' comment. "I've spent weeks investigating Chuck Bass, going over his financials and properties, and still nothing. Either I'm mistaken or he's the greatest gentleman thief in history."

"You're prepared to admit you could be wrong?"

"It doesn't happen often, but anything is possible. I just want to be sure I'm considering all the angles, being thorough."

"Hmm." Dan's reply was noncommittal.

She went back to her paperwork and he did the same.

About twenty minutes later, the phone rang on her desk. It happened so infrequently when she was at the precinct that the sound made her jump. Even Dan turned to look.

"Blair Waldorf."

The voice on the line asked a question Dan couldn't hear. He looked at Blair quizzically and she switched the phone to speakerphone.

"Yes, this is Blair."

"I understand you are handling the investigation into the missing Empress necklace?" The voice had a distinct, rather posh British accent.

"That's correct."

Dan frowned and it made Blair grin.

"I know where you can find it."

"I'd be delighted to hear it," she invited.

There was a pause, almost as if the caller were considering whether to speak.

Finally, he did. "Are you familiar with the old paradox that the villain always returns to the scene of the crime? Start there."

"How do you know this? Do you know who took the necklace? Do you -?"

She was too late. He had hung up.

* * *

Blair raced to the Met with Dan in tow. The anonymous caller had said "the scene of the crime," so they headed directly to the Royal Jewels exhibit.

They slowly examined every glass case full of jewels and every nook and cranny in the room.

No _Empress_.

"It's not here," Dan announced unnecessarily.

"Thank you, Sherlock, for that brilliant deduction," Blair sneered. "I'm not giving up."

She moved onto Arms and Armor…Medieval Art…Greek and Roman Art…

Still nothing.

Dan followed closely behind. "Maybe this is a wild goose chase. Maybe it's not even here."

"It's a big building, Humphrey; it could be anywhere. How much time do we have before the museum opens to the public?"

"It opens at 10."

"Not that much time then. Dear God, I hope it's on the first floor. This building is like a maze. And it's huge—the main building alone is four city blocks!"

They passed the museum's gift shop.

"You don't want to look in there?"

Blair shook her head. "Somehow I think it's more likely to be in a gallery or an exhibit."

They moved into the Egyptian Art section. Given that Chuck had gotten trapped in the Temple of Dendur, there was a good chance the necklace was somewhere in that section. The Egyptian section was one of Blair's favorites. Normally, she would've lingered over the majestic granite Recumbent Lion and the vivid turquoise hue of the ceramic hippo nicknamed William who served as the Met's mascot.

There was no time for that now, as she and Dan hurriedly scanned for the necklace. They were nothing if not thorough. Blair checked inside the Temple of Dendur and also in the reflecting pool in front of it, recalling that Chuck had originally hidden the necklace in a Bass Industries fountain.

Still nothing. The clock was ticking and the frustration mounting.

What had they missed? 20th Century Art, The American Wing, Art of Africa, Oceania and the Americas….and European Sculpture and Decorative Arts.

Bingo! That sounded like a likely spot.

Blair took off at a brisk pace. She was a woman on a mission: she was going to find that necklace.

She entered the long, airy gallery, trying desperately not to be distracted by all the life-size marble nudes. So much history, so much talent, so much beauty….

So little necklace.

She started down one row of statuary. There were standing figures, reclining ones, plenty of possibilities….

They paused in front of a marble Perseus holding the head of Medusa.

Blair fought hard to suppress a smile. It would've made a wonderful place to display the necklace. She couldn't wait to see what Chuck had ultimately chosen.

She forced herself to keep moving and searching. She was several statues down the aisle when she caught it…

That first iridescent spark of light…

Her eyes followed it.

It was captivating…

Mesmerizing…

Especially when the full effect of the diamonds was taken in.

And then she realized which statue it was on….

She gasped sharply.

Dan, who'd been looking at the piece next to her, turned in surprise. "Is that…?"

" _The Empress_? Yes, I think so. Take it down and we'll see."

"And the statue…?"

"It's Canova. _Cupid Reviving Psyche with a Kiss_." Of all the pieces for Chuck to select…

"Makes a nice display," Dan muttered under his breath as he fiddled with the stubborn clasp. Finally, the clasp gave and the necklace started to fall….

Right into Blair's waiting hands. She caught it expertly.

"Here, hold this a second." She thrust the necklace at Dan, who was staring at it as if he were not quite sure it was real.

Blair reached into her purse and pulled out a velvet pouch with a jeweler's loupe, which she held up to the stones in their ornate setting.

"You carry a jeweler's loupe in your purse?" He sounded incredulous.

"Tools of the trade," she shrugged, focusing on her inspection of the historic item. "It looks authentic to me, but we'll have to check with the museum's curators first."

"And with the insurance company," Dan reminded, but Blair was way ahead of him and already dialing the numbers into her phone.

"You realize this means we may have solved the case," Blair sounded almost giddy as she waited for the insurance company to pick up the call.

"Possibly," was Dan's only comment.

* * *

It was several hours later and the necklace had been cleared by both the museum staff and the insurance company. Now Blair could finally exhale. She'd returned to the penthouse, slipped off her heels and was enjoying a glass of champagne, courtesy of Dorota, when her phone chimed.

It was Dan.

Blair frowned. What could he possibly want now? Maybe to confirm that the case was indeed closed?

No such luck.

"Blair, before we officially close this case, there are some issues I need to address and get your answers. Can you come back down to the precinct, please?"

"Now? What issues?" This sounded suspicious to Blair.

"Standard procedure, I assure you."

She did not feel reassured.

When she ended the call, she immediately dialed an old family friend who happened to be a prominent attorney, and then she went upstairs to put on something that conveyed both trustworthy and fashionable.

It was an hour and a half later when Blair came walking into the precinct office, lawyer in tow.

Dan was waiting, the affable expression on his face turning to surprise when he saw who that lawyer was. "Gloria Allred is your attorney?!"

"Her specialties are women's rights and employee law. Besides, she's an old family friend who happened to be in town right now."

The detective might solve mysteries for a living, but Blair Waldorf and her Upper East Side ways were too much of a mystery for him sometimes. "Do you think an attorney is necessary? This interview is just a formality."

Blair smiled indulgently. "A girl likes to be prepared." She sat down, and Ms. Allred followed suit. "What can I do for you, Detective?"

Straight to business. Alrighty then.

"I'll be recording our conversation today. Before they cut your payout check, the insurance company wanted to be absolutely certain that you are in no way involved in the disappearance and reappearance of _The Empress_."

"How could I possibly be?"

"There are concerns about your involvement with Charles Bass."

She said nothing this time.

Great, she was going to make him work for it.

"I am correct in stating you have a relationship with Mr. Bass?"

"Yes."

"Would you characterize it as a friendship?"

"Yes."

"As more than a friendship?"

"It's a romantic relationship, yes."

"Romantic? Would you characterize it as a sexual relationship?"

Blair shifted uncomfortably at that, her face growing tense. She remained stubbornly silent.

Dan stared.

Blair stared back.

"It would help if you responded," he nudged.

Still nothing.

"Blair," Gloria prompted gently.

Blair huffed. "Fine. Is it a sexual relationship? Yes, extremely."

"Are you in the habit of becoming involved with your suspects?"

"No, I am not! You know that," Blair was ready to stand up and walk out any time now.

"Detective Humphrey, I think that's enough. Ms. Waldorf's reputation and record speak for themselves." Gloria was polite but firm.

"Did you know Mr. Bass before taking on this case?"

"No, we had never met before."

"Then how did you come to settle upon him so quickly as a suspect in the theft?"

"By simple analysis of the facts: frankly, he was present at or near several other prominent jewel thefts, and he had not been thoroughly investigated in the past."

"Meaning?"

"He appeared to have no motive, but that had not been scrutinized."

"So you decided to 'scrutinize' him?"

"Yes."

"And what did you find?"

"Well, I didn't find the necklace. Or any other evidence he was guilty."

"How long did it take you to come to this conclusion?"

"I've actively investigated him for the last several weeks."

"About the length of this relationship of yours?"

"It was…an instant attraction," she admitted.

"Do you feel that this attraction may have blinded you to the truth of Mr. Bass's guilt?"

"Detective Humphrey," Gloria cautioned.

"Fine, I'll move onto a new line of questioning. Blair, what were your whereabouts yesterday evening?"

"I attended a benefit dinner for the Central Park Beautification Brigade."

"Alone?"

"With Mr. Bass."

He made note of that.

"And after dinner?"

"There was dancing at the benefit, and then we went home."

"Whose home?"

"Mine."

"That would be the penthouse at 1136 Fifth Avenue?"

Blair nodded.

"About what time was this?"

"Maybe 10 p.m.? Our doorman should be able to review the security tapes."

"And what time did Mr. Bass leave?"

"He didn't."

"He was at your apartment the whole night?"

Blair looked uncomfortable again. "If you don't believe me, check the security tape." She felt confident that Chuck had done an expert job altering the tape and inserting footage that did not show his leaving the building. After all, the building security system was one of his own.

"Is there anyone who can serve as an eyewitness to his being in your apartment? Your maid?"

"Dorota was off that evening."

"Anyone else?"

"Well, we did receive a delivery. Chuck, er, Mr. Bass had some paperwork delivered that needed to be reviewed and signed before this morning. The doorman brought it up."

"At what time?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe around 11:30?"

"So he could vouch for the time and Mr. Bass's presence?"

"Certainly." Blair was relieved she had devised the plan to have a remote control in her robe pocket that activated a digital recorder upstairs. It didn't produce an eyewitness, but an earwitness was also helpful. While the doorman believed Chuck was calling down to them, Chuck was, in fact, on his way out the maintenance entrance and heading for the Met.

"Neither of you left your building at any time during the night?"

Blair shook her head, relieved that Chuck had doctored the security tapes at both the museum and her building. There was something to be said for dating a man who owned a security company among his many holdings.

"I assume you are also checking the security systems at the Met?"

"Yes, but the thief is either invisible or a phantom, because no human shows up on the tape."

"Not even on the backup system?"

"You know about that?"

"I do work for the insurance company, you know," Blair sniffed. She could only hope he wouldn't try to verify her knowledge.

"Ah, but the backup was motion-sensing beams only. Duplicate cameras for that gigantic place would be cost-prohibitive."

"Maybe that was why I never found the culprit: he's a ghost."

"You did get a lucky tip."

"I did," she agreed.

"You didn't recognize the voice on the phone?"

"No, he had an English accent. I don't know who that could be." Truly, she wasn't sure if Chuck had phoned it in himself or had someone else make the call.

"You seemed surprised when we found the necklace hanging on that statue."

"I was. Even with the tip, I couldn't be sure we'd actually find and retrieve the necklace."

"I thought it might be because of the statue." Dan's tone was a little snide.

"The statue?"

"Surely it didn't escape your notice that Mr. Bass has a copy of that statue in his entry hall?"

"Detective Humphrey, what are you getting at?" Gloria was growing impatient.

"That the placement of the necklace may have been no coincidence."

"Why would Chuck implicate himself that way? Perhaps someone knows about his statue and wants to cast blame on him? As for his statue, yes, it's a plaster copy, but so is the one in the Met. It was a gift from Isidor Straus, the co-founder of Macy's, in 1905. The original is in the Louvre in Paris. Another copy is in the Hermitage Museum in Saint Petersburg."

"Highly regarded depositories of art: The Louvre, the Met, the Hermitage, Chuck Bass's hallway." Dan actually had the nerve to smirk.

"I'm just saying that we don't know what prompted the thief to return the necklace to that particular piece of art."

"Or to return the necklace at all," Dan pointed out.

"Well, it's not like one could wear it to the opera or a dinner party…or display it openly. Maybe it just occurred to the thief that he was better rid of it."

"We may never know." Dan closed his notebook and sat back in his chair.

"Are we finished here?" Gloria shifted in her seat.

Dan nodded.

"Then I have another engagement this afternoon. Blair, please let me know if you need anything further."

"Thank you, Gloria."

"Anything for you and my dear friend Eleanor."

The two women briefly embraced before the lawyer took her leave.

After the door clicked closed, Dan turned to Blair. "Gloria Allred? Really, Blair?"

"I'm a woman whose professional and legal conduct is being called into question. I needed to be prepared to defend myself."

"You know it's not a question of you yourself, but of the company you've been keeping."

"I make no apologies for my relationship with Mr. Bass."

"Even if it costs you everything?"

"I see no reason why it should." Blair was undaunted.

"He's thirty years old and he's never had a girlfriend. Aren't you gambling a lot on what may only be a passing fancy, an affair of the moment to him?"

"It's an affair of the heart," she said quietly. "I don't expect you to understand."

"But you could do so much better, find someone who's not so…broken."

"We're all broken, Humphrey, in our own ways. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I love him more because he's broken? His rough edges fit well with mine."

"Well, I wish you luck. When what you've told me today is verified, the case will be officially closed and the insurance company will cut your check. It's been a pleasure working with you."

Blair extended a hand for him to shake before they went outside the room and moved down the hall.

They were just in time to see Chuck come down another hall, followed by Cyrus Rose and a couple of detectives from the precinct.

When Chuck and Blair's eyes met, everyone else was forgotten. They only dimly heard Cyrus make his goodbyes as they approached each other and joined hands. They made a striking pair, both dressed in navy. Blair's nautical-inspired, fitted dress had bits of white trim while Chuck's shirt was pristine white linen and his striped pocket square accented both colors.

They looked like a couple dressed for a photo op.

As if on cue, one of the detectives announced that the press was just outside the front door.

Blair frowned and looked at Chuck in concern.

"It's okay," he whispered against her ear. "I called them. Are you ready to make our debut? I'm sorry I wasn't there for your Cotillion, but I promise this will be a spectacular show as well."

"Lead the way, Bass." Blair was placing herself in his hands.

He reached for the handle of the front door. They could already hear the noise of the press corps outside. He took a deep breath. "Arthur will be at the curb with the limo. Are you ready for this?"

She nodded.

"Are you sure? We can take a back exit…"

She exhaled and then put on her biggest smile. She was sure.

The door opened and a sea of flashes went off, temporarily blinding them. They moved closer together and Chuck wrapped one arm around her waist. She followed suit.

And then reporters were firing questions at them.

"Mr. Bass, is it true you are a suspect in the theft of _The Empress_?"

"How long have you been seeing each other?"

"Are you in love?"

They ignored them all and Chuck swept Blair into his arms for a kiss worthy of a Hollywood movie ending.

More flashes went off.

They stay locked in their public embrace for what seemed like a long time before turning to leave. As promised, Arthur was at the curb, holding the limo door open.

Chuck got in first, followed by Blair, who immediately fell into his arms. "I am so glad that's over," she sighed.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." He kissed her forehead.

"Don't be. It was necessary…and it's over now."

"Everything went alright with your interview?"

"I believe so. Humphrey asked some fairly probing questions about our relationship."

"Such as…?"

"First, he asked if it was a friendship, then if it was more, then if it was sexual." She frowned again.

"And what did you say to that?"

"I am very truthful. I said extremely." She gave him a little wink. "Did they ask you?"

"Of course."

"And what did you say?"

"A gentleman never tells."

"They let you get away with that?" Blair was incredulous.

"Why didn't he let you? I saw your lawyer leaving. Wasn't that Gloria Allred?"

"Old family friend," Blair explained with a nod. "I think Humphrey was so intimidated he almost wet his pants."

"He should be. She has quite the reputation for success."

"As do you."

"And you. I'm going to have to put some more resources into my security systems, however. That branch has taken a bit of a hit with the theft and return."

"No doubt you will unveil something bigger and better in just a few months."

"Possibly." He gave a Cheshire cat grin.

"You're a naughty man, Chuck Bass."

"Would you want me any other way?" He tilted her chin and kissed her senseless.

She couldn't have argued, even if she'd wanted to.

They'd just begun to sink into the lush leather seats when Blair's phone trilled.

They reluctantly broke apart.

"I have to take that."

He could hear the regret in her voice. "I know," he nodded.

"Blair Waldorf." She did her best to sound professional and focused but was not entirely successful.

Chuck waited expectantly to learn the caller's identity.

"Serena? You saw us on the news?"

Chuck had to grin at that.

"You want to go out to dinner tonight? Well, Chuck and I had planned-."

He put his hand on her arm. "We'll go," he said quietly.

She gave him a questioning look, as if to ask if he was sure, before going back to her conversation. "Of course, Serena. 7:30 sounds good. Shall we meet you at the restaurant?"

When she ended the call, she looked back to Chuck. "I thought we were going to have a special evening together?"

"And we are, just after we have dinner with Nathaniel and Serena. It's all part of our coming out as a couple. How hard can it be to behave ourselves for a couple of hours?" He looked at his watch. "It's just after 5. Go home and get ready. I'll pick you up at 7. Oh, and wear your Erickson-Beamon necklace."

* * *

It was very difficult to behave themselves over dinner.

Now they were finally free to be openly together, they still couldn't be alone.

As promised, Blair was wearing her necklace to accessorize a silver damask silk dress that looked strangely familiar to Nate…

"Haven't I seen that dress before?"

"Nate!" Serena scolded, shocked he'd had the temerity to bring it up. Sure, she'd recognized the dress immediately, but she had the good sense to pretend she didn't. Blair was unlikely to be pleased.

Instead, she laughed. "Yes, Nate, this is my old Cotillion dress, which still fits, by the way. I'm wearing this tonight because Chuck and I are celebrating my recovering _The Empress_ and our debut as a couple."

"Is it true that Chuck was the main suspect?"

"I'm delighted to say that's past tense now," Chuck mumbled under his breath.

"Yes, he was," Blair answered, "But now the necklace is found, I guess we'll never know who stole it."

"And you met him because you were investigating him?" Serena was still trying to make sense of it all.

"I did say I met him through work," Blair reminded her.

Serena turned to Chuck, "And you're okay with her investigating you and treating you like a suspect?"

"Some wonderful things came of that."

Did he just wink at Blair?!

"That's very…uh, philosophical," Nate contributed.

"That's something I don't get called very often." Chuck had to smirk.

Appetizers were served.

At first, Nate and Serena were amused when Blair offered Chuck a sample of her baguette dipped in cheese fondue.

By the third time, it was less entertaining. Manhattan's new It Couple had clearly built up an appetite, but it appeared to be for each other rather than the entrée.

More courses passed and the blonds were relieved that the uncomfortable PDA seemed to be subsiding.

Then came dessert.

A fruit plate seemed fairly innocuous.

Not when Chuck and Blair were involved.

It had been embarrassing to see when fondue forks were involved. It was immeasurably worse to see Blair pluck grapes off the plates and feed then to Chuck one by one, like he was some decadent Greek god.

Serena was discussing selections she was making for the famous annual Archibald White Party in the Hamptons that summer.

Chuck took a plump strawberry and dragged it through a small dish of whipped crème before swiping it slowly across Blair's lower lip. He smiled when her pink tongue peeked out and licked at the cloud of crème, and he gasped when it (perhaps not accidentally) made contact with his fingertip. The look she gave him was devilish and completely captivated.

"Blair, are you listening to me?" Serena demanded.

"Of course I am, Serena. You're discussing this year's White Party, which is sure to be your biggest social success ever."

Serena wanted to scold, truly she did, but how can you be churlish when your best friend has just given you such a lovely compliment? Honestly, the fact that she even knew what S was talking about was something of a multitasking miracle.

"I can't wait. Chuck, you're going to love it. It is the party of the summer season, if I can persuade you to be my date?"

"I think you missed your business calling. You certainly know how to make an offer I can't refuse." He kissed her fingers.

"Hey, do you guys want to go somewhere for drinks…?" Nate suggested.

"Ooh, or dancing?" Serena was definitely on board with her husband's plan.

Chuck and Blair subconsciously moved closer together.

"I'm so tired," Blair stifled a yawn.

"And I have an early meeting," Chuck tried to sound regretful. He got to his feet and he and Blair took their leave.

"Can you believe them?!" Serena grumbled to her husband.

"Well, at least they had dinner with us," he shrugged.

"That wasn't food, that was foreplay!"

Nate had to grin. "At least the limo windows are tinted. Have you saved a drink and dance for your own man, or are you still worried about Blair's?"

* * *

Blair slid onto the rich leather seat in the limo. "Alone at last," she sighed.

Chuck gave her a light kiss on the lips. "Luck be a limo tonight."

"Oh, so you're feeling lucky?" she teased.

"Shouldn't I be? I am, after all, out with the crack investigator who solved _The Empress_ case."

"And I'm with the playboy billionaire who may or may not be the world's greatest gentleman thief."

"It's rumored that he has eschewed his playboy ways and is now a secret romantic."

"Not so secret, methinks." She kissed him again.

"I'm done with secrets. All I want is you." Her breath hitched as he traced a trail of kisses down her neck.

She looked up at him in the semi-darkness, the only light shining down on them through the moonroof. "Are you sure?"

"I love you, Blair Waldorf." His words were confident and sure, even as his hands fumbled, one in his pocket and the other in the seat cushions.

"I love you, Chuck Bass, and do you know what I'm most excited about tonight?"

He stared into her eyes, waiting for her answer.

"That we have all the time in the world."

"Then I don't want to waste another second of it." He swept her onto his lap and they sank into each other and the luxurious seat.

Here, the rest of the world was far away and small, as it should be, and they existed only for each other.

The limo was lucky indeed.

To Be Continued in Chapter 19

* * *

Author's Note:

Are you breathing easier? They appear to have pulled off their plans. Or are there more plans? That check still hasn't been cut yet….

Special thanks to purplebowties for her comment in a recent review that Blair loves Chuck, not in spite of his damage and flaws, but because of them. Thank you for letting me include that, C.

Also sending love and gratitude to Ishi, who shared with me the third season Thanksgiving scene with an almost hidden treasure. Blair is feeding Chuck at the dinner table! It is fast and fleeting, but nonetheless amazing. So I had to borrow that too. I encourage you to do a rewatch.

This chapter is (belatedly) dedicated to the magic of Limoversary, to readers and reviewers (thank you so much), to friends and fans.

Cheers!

Until next time,

Xoxo


	19. Chapter 19

_Last time in the Bassverse: The Empress was returned, and Chuck and Blair came out as a couple, though a hint of suspicion still lingers…._

Though he would never admit it, Detective Dan Humphrey was nervous. Something about the penthouse at 1136 Fifth Avenue just felt off to him.

Maybe it was the red marble columns topped by gilded capitals. Who had Greek-inspired columns in their living room?

Or maybe it was the black and white checkerboard of tiles in the foyer that looked like they were straight out of some British country house?

The Polish maid who'd let him and went to fetch 'Miss Blair' had invited him to take a seat, but the midcentury modern sofa and chairs seemed too homey and the settee too French chateau.

So he simply paced around, inspecting the room. A grand piano stood in the corner, almost as if it were trying to look casual. An ornate bouquet in a crystal vase that sat atop the instrument assured it would not go unnoticed, as did the family photos in a variety of frames. He moved closer to inspect them.

Blair, at various ages and venues. Always beautiful.

Almost as if he conjured her up by looking at her pictures, the lady in question came rushing down the staircase. There was a spring in her step and a bright smile on her face.

"Oh, there you are, dar—uh, Dan." At the base of the stairs, her feet slowed to a stop and the smile slipped from her lips. Within a matter of a second, she recovered and fixed a polite expression on her face. "Detective, to what do I owe the pleasure? Won't you sit down?" She sat on the settee and gestured towards a club chair for him.

Thank God she hadn't put him on the settee! "I hope I didn't come at a bad time? It sounded like you were, um, expecting someone else."

"Chuck and I have an engagement later this afternoon," she confirmed.

He raised his brows. "So you're still seeing Bass?"

Blair did not care for his tone or implication. "Of course." Her smile was tense. "You sound surprised." And really, why was he? Since their public debut as a couple, she and Chuck were considered Manhattan's It Pair. No party or function was considered a success without their appearance. It had been a whirlwind of a few weeks and showed no signs of letting up. They were all over the social pages, magazine covers, gossip rags. Had he somehow missed all that?

"I'm aware, of course, that you're seen around town together. I could hardly not be."

She looked somewhat pleased at that statement.

"I just…don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm seeing a man I met in my line of work, not juggling knives!"

How dare she so deliberately misunderstand? "You know I was referring to Bass's playboy reputation. Granted, even these couple of months are some kind of record for him. But can a leopard really change his spots? Can he be truly happy with just one woman?" Dan scoffed.

"He appears to be," Blair retorted. Of course Chuck was happy. As she was. So, so happy. These last weeks had been the best of her life. How dare Detective Downer come in and call that into question? She was trying to calm herself when she realized he was still speaking….

"You can't be with him every minute of the day, not with your career. And when the cat's away…."

She lost her temper then. "I am not a cat. And Chuck is not a rodent. This is a relationship, not a pet store. Why exactly are you here?"

Well, she wasted no time in getting to the heart of things, did she? "I had a meeting with the insurance company this morning. They've cut your check. I asked if I could deliver it to you in person." He fumbled in his jacket pocket for the envelope.

"Why would you want to do that?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and he suddenly felt like a young boy who'd been caught in misbehavior.

"I…er, well, I came to admire you and appreciate our friendship during the course of our investigation and I wanted to thank you for that." He was suddenly very interested in the Persian carpet under their feet, even as he handed the small manila envelope to her.

Blair frowned. He was acting like a teenage boy with a crush. Was he…interested in her personally? Was he jealous of Chuck? If so, it was hardly the smoothest of moves to imply that she was not capable of keeping her man's interest. "That's very kind."

Great, she was dismissing him.

"Look, Dan," she began firmly.

Even worse, she was rejecting him and an offer he hadn't been fully aware he was making. What the hell had he been thinking in coming here today? Time for a radical change of subject. "Blair, I know Bass stole The Empress."

That shut her up. She was silent but didn't otherwise appear rattled.

"I know he stole that necklace because you believe he did. Much as it pains me to admit it, you have a terrifying tendency to be right."

She couldn't quite keep the smile off her face at that remark.

"I also know that he couldn't have gotten it back into the museum on his own. He had to have help on the inside. And I know that help was you."

Her composure was still unshaken.

"I don't want to see you end up alone with those wrists in handcuffs instead of silver bracelets."

She smiled. "Are you planning on arresting me, Humphrey?"

"Of course not. As far as I'm concerned, the case is closed. I've already moved on to more satisfying work."

"More satisfying than the fiction you're spinning? Detective, I do believe you have missed your calling to write the Great American Novel. Tell me, what cases are you working on now?"

He gave her a brief description of his current caseload.

"See, you are an excellent storyteller," she said encouragingly.

"It's just the story of my life, for what that's worth. And speaking of that, I should be getting back to living it." He stood up and moved toward the door.

She followed him to the elevator and gave him a firm, friendly handshake. "Thank you for bringing the check." The look in her eye said she was being grateful for more than that.

"Take care of yourself, Blair." He stepped into the elevator car. "We both know Bass has a history of being careless with precious things."

She rolled her eyes as the doors closed.

Dan Humphrey was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong!

She and Chuck were unshakable and would continue to be so.

When the elevator doors opened again a few minutes later, the dark gentleman who stepped out was just the one she wanted.

When he took her in his arms…

When their eyes met and held…

When they were breathing the same air…

When their lips moved against each other's…tasting, testing, exploring, celebrating…

They were right where they belonged and everything else fell away.

* * *

She was standing in front of the pier glass mirror, contemplating her reflection.

A masculine hand snaked round her waist, fingers sliding over the crimson silk of her slip and caressing the curve of hip.

Blair could feel Chuck's breath on her cheek as he pulled her flush against him and her breath came out in a surprised sigh.

"Penny for your thoughts." His voice was in her ear, in her heart, in her head.

"Surely they're worth more than that!" she chided.

He chuckled. She never failed to surprise him.

"Though I suppose I'm lucky you just didn't try to steal them." She tried to scoff, but her lips curved up into a smile that gave her away.

"I'm so busy, you see, trying to steal other things." He trailed kisses down the length of neck and across her shoulder.

"Such as?" Her voice was not quite steady.

"A kiss." His fingers came up to tilt her chin up and his mouth came down on hers in a half teasing, half reverent brush of lips.

"You know that is always freely given." The words came out as a whisper.

"Your time." He deepened the kiss.

"We haven't spent a single night apart since you returned the necklace," she reminded him.

"Your heart." He kissed his from her collar bone down to her décolletage, until he came to the place where that precious organ resided in her chest. He thought could feel it beating through her skin, though maybe that was the echo of his own.

"That already belongs to you." She lowered her head and purred the words against his lips.

He didn't answer then, at least not verbally. He just poured everything he had into the kiss, until she made a little happy sound.

"I guess there's only one thing left to steal…," he pulled her closer and scooped her into his arms. "You." Then he purposefully set off towards the bed.

He meant to put her down gently, but her arms were tangled round his neck, pulling him down on top of her.

Chuck paused for a moment then, drawing back to look at her dark eyes shining up at him, the bloom of color on her cheeks, the pout of lips already swollen from kissing and only to become more so before this night was over….

This perfect, perfect night.

Only one thing could make it more perfect.

He reached over to the bedside table and pulled open the top drawer. When he turned back to her, he was holding a small box open to showcase its contents.

She gasped.

"I lied; there is one more thing I want to steal," he confessed. "Your name."

He set down the box and took both her hands in his, ready to do the one thing he had sworn never to do. "Blair Cornelia Waldorf…will you marry me?"

He took a deep breath and dared to look into her eyes, to know her answer.

But he couldn't see her face, couldn't feel her fingers wrapped in his.

He reached out for her, grasping at air and finally, sheets.

"Blair! Blair!"

His eyes sprang open.

His arms…

His bed…

His heart…

All empty.

Just as they had been since she'd left him.

* * *

 _Several weeks prior_

Chuck and Blair were enjoying a leisurely breakfast on the roof of his townhouse when Blair's phone trilled.

Startled, she let it ring another time or two, before shooting Chuck an apologetic look and accepting the call with a sigh. "Blair Waldorf."

Chuck heard the change in her voice when the caller spoke and Blair responded with an enthusiastic, "Daddy!"

He tried to suppress a smile as she happily chatted with her father.

"You're opening the winery on the estate? … Of course I'd love to be there. … May I bring a guest?" she gave Chuck a saucy grin. "Yes, it's Chuck Bass." The grin gave way to a smile. "I'm sure he'll be pleased to finally meet you as well. … We'll talk soon. Au revoir!"

"I take it we've been invited to France?" Chuck asked after she ended the call.

"Can you come with me?" She sounded like a little girl inviting him to her party.

"When?"

"Next week."

Chuck frowned. "Blair, I have meetings dealing with the new merger then. Besides, we need to get things in motion to take Waldorf Designs private again."

"Oh." Her face fell. "I guess I can't be leaving town either then."

"Why not? My lawyer, Cyrus Rose, will be back in town in a day or two. He and I can get things started with your mother and you can jump in when you get back."

"You wouldn't mind? I so seldom get a chance to see my father. He lives in a castle in the French countryside with its own vineyard, and now its own winery."

"I don't want you to miss it." He squeezed her hand before raising it to his lips for a kiss.

She still looked torn. "It's only for a few days, right?"

* * *

Chuck Bass stared at his laptop screen, trying desperately to concentrate.

He sighed in disgust. Blair had only been gone since that morning. It was inexcusable to be missing her so much already.

They weren't formally living together, but they alternated time between his place and hers. In the short time she'd been in his penthouse, she'd left an indelible mark on the place. It wasn't just the feminine items in his previously solely masculine abode…or the photo of them together at Lily's fundraiser…or his drawing of Blair in the necklace that was now openly on display on his study wall. She seemed to have permeated his entire life and now she was gone, even for this short amount of time, he felt bereft.

The phone on his desk vibrated.

The caller ID displayed a single word: Blair.

Was this real or had he just conjured it up by his recurring thoughts of her?

It certainly seemed real.

He swiped the screen to pick up the call. "Good evening, gorgeous."

"Hello, handsome," she purred the words.

"Is everything alright, Blair? Not that I'm not happy to hear from you...but isn't it…," he consulted the carriage clock in front of him, "three a.m. in France right now?"

"It is," she admitted, "but I can't sleep. I've been tossing and turning for hours."

"Jet lag?"

"I miss you," she confessed in a near whisper.

"I miss you too, baby." If she was confessing, he was too.

A little moan escaped at the endearment. Endearments with Chuck were rare, treasured…and sexy. "I need you to relax me like you did in the limo this morning."

Then it was his turn to moan. "There's nothing I would like more, but there is the small matter of a whole ocean being between us."

"I thought you said nothing could come between us? Besides, with your voice in my ear, it sounds like you're here right now, whispering in my ear, against my neck…"

"Hey now, that's cheating. You know your neck is my weakness."

"Really?" she tried to sound innocent. "If you were here, what would you be doing to my neck?"

"What would you want me to do, my queen?"

Royal talk combined with that sinful honey-over-caramel voice of his… It was the best kind of torture.

"I'd want you to loosen that tie and come lie down beside me."

"How do you know I'm still wearing a tie?" He closed the laptop and made his way into the bedroom.

"I think you were born wearing a tie. It suits you, but right now you're wearing too many clothes."

He slipped off his Italian leather loafers and settled onto the bed. "Speaking of clothes…what are you wearing right now?"

"Oh, some old nightgown."

"Riiight. Is it silk, satin or lace?"

"Maybe it's cotton or linen?" she suggested.

He snorted. "Unlikely. You always favor the more luxurious fabrics. If I were a wagering man…."

"You _are_ a wagering man." There was no denying it.

"I'd bet on the silk. It's the texture closest to your skin, though nothing can equal that perfection. That's why I love your neck so much."

"About my neck…?" she hinted.

"I'd breathe in the smell of your hair, then I'd be so close that I could hear the pulse beating under that silky skin…."

He could hear her intake of breath.

"I'd have to taste it."

She made a little sound of pleasure.

He was instantly hard.

"Nibble my way down to your shoulder…"

She made another intoxicating little noise.

"Blair, what are you really wearing?"

"A red silk chemise with tiny little straps on the shoulders."

"Too many clothes. Take it off," he demanded.

There was a rustling sound as she slid the gown over her head.

"Done!" She sounded quite proud of herself.

"Not quite. Now, the panties."

It sounded as if she was complying, but he wanted to draw it out a bit more.

"Not so fast. Slip your fingers underneath. Tell me, are you wet? Are you ready for me?"

"So ready," she sighed.

"Then slide those panties down your legs and bare yourself to me."

A shiver went through her as she performed the action. "Hey, this isn't fair," she protested feebly.

"How so?"

"I'm all naked, and you're fully dressed."

"Not true. I took off my tie and slipped off my shoes before I got into the bed."

"Unzip," she demanded.

"Make me," he challenged.

"Please, we both know if I were there, my fingers would already be on the zipper tab."

She heard the descent of the zipper in question and couldn't keep the pleased smile off her face.

"Now, you tell me: Are you hard? Are you ready for me?"

"Hard enough to make a diamond jealous."

She giggled. "Now what do you want to do to me?"

"Don't rush," he cautioned. "I want to take my time and lavish some attention on those perfect pink…."

She moaned then.

"Touch them for me," he commanded. "I bet they fit perfectly in your little palms."

"Not as perfectly as they do in yours," she whispered.

"Lick your fingertips for me, Blair. Now ghost them over your nipples…circle your fingertips over them…are they all drawn up in little peaks for me?"

"Mm-hmm." It came out as a sigh.

"Always so sensitive, especially when I squeeze one and suck the other into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue…."

She cried out then and he thought he might too. _God, how could she be so sexy an ocean away?_

"Speaking of tongues…?"

What was she saying? He forced himself to concentrate.

"You love it when I taste you too. When I lick your neck—oh, don't think I haven't noticed that," she giggled. "But especially when I start at the base of your cock and run my tongue all the way up, until I get to that little ridge…the one that's just made for my tongue…."

"It is," he agreed, but it was getting harder to get out the words.

"If you were here, I'd be demanding you come inside me right now."

"Maybe I'd make you work for it, wait for it…maybe I'd be nibbling at that silky skin on your inner thigh…touch it for me, Blair…."

"Do you think you could resist?"

"Not for long. You're like a siren, drawing me in."

"I want you inside me." It was her turn to be nearly breathless now.

"Are you touching yourself, Blair? Rubbing circles around your clit, sliding your fingers deep inside, like I would be. I love that moment, when I'm buried inside you as much as I can be….and…."

Her orgasm came over her in wave upon wave of pure, blinding pleasure, wresting a blissful cry from deep in her throat, in her soul.

Chuck could hear it, could almost feel it, as he followed after.

Then there was just the sound of deep breathing over the phone connection.

"Three words, eight letters, Bass."

"I love you, Blair. Do you think you'll be able to sleep now?" He sounded just a little bit smug.

Her response was a yawn.

"I should let you go."

"No, don't. Stay on the line, just until I'm asleep?"

"I'll be right here. I just have to freshen up and put my robe on. You should put your robe on too; I don't want you getting cold in that old French castle."

"I wouldn't be cold if you were here with me," she reminded him. "Oh, Chuck, they have most amazing wine cellar. It's cavernous and quiet…and very private."

"Did it give you naughty ideas?"

"About being up against the stone wall in the fun, Chuck Bass way? Naturally!"

"I've corrupted you."

"That's what they say, but I prefer 'seduced'."

"Who seduced who here? I think it was entirely mutual."

"Maybe. I'm just glad it happened." She yawned again.

"I am too. Are you all cozy now?"

"As much as I can be in a bed without you."

"Good. That means you miss me."

"I do. Three words, eight letters, Bass!"

"Which three? I miss you. I want you. I love you."

"Exactly."

He waited until her breathing was measured and even before he ended the call and let his own eyes close. Blair couldn't get home soon enough.

To Be Continued in Chapter 20

* * *

Author's Note:

Friday is my birthday, so in the spirit of celebration, I'm giving you some Chuck Bass.

I've missed you, readers, and I'm truly sorry this update has been so long in coming. Am I forgiven?

Special thanks to Chrys1130 and Shrk22 for their support and to all of you reader/reviewers for your loyalty and kind words. I hear reviews make great birthday presents. Hint hint.

What's next on the agenda for our dynamic duo? Stay tuned!

XoXo


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